Close Up
by liahime
Summary: ryukifluff.100 challenge one hundred days,one hundred fluffy oneshots completely devoted to ryuki.
1. high priestess

**ryuki 100 fluff challenge.**  
_theme o1.high.priestess._

So it's been exactly twenty three days, and to her, it is the longest time she has experienced. Silence goes by quickly, in memory, so many repeated minor variations in an endless ritual of cleansing blend and meld into each other. Clear and translucent. Easy to understand. She is merely herself onto herself, there is nothing she does not know or not understand.

But each day now is loud and chaotic. The clear water is marred.

Mount Olympus had it easy.

Athena turned a girl into an arachnid for higher weaving quality. Hera threw people off of mountains. Diana shot any man in her wood, end of story. Just one more corpse to hand over to a relative to burn in an endless fire-disposal free of charge.

But sadly, Ruki can't shoot him. Because there must be some law somewhere that says it's illegal to shoot your boyfriend of twenty three days.

Even if it is Ryou, and he is singing about waffles, and you are on a bus to a ski trip to who-knows-where and it's early and you're grumpy and the coffee tastes like sludge that the bus driver scraped up from the side of the road and everyone is so cheerful in the morning- and all you really want to do is go back to the clarity of solitude and sleeping in on Saturday winter mornings without having to throw up as you go up miles and miles and miles of stupid snowy roads-

Ruki was never really a morning person.

**Look,** **mountains!**

He is always excited, this hero, always full of the color and sunlight that stirs up the waters, throws the ripples and blurs the message, the solution, and makes a mess of it all- and yet always saves the day. He does not have to work for things as she does, did not have to sacrifice and dedicate his life to a calling of clarity just to try to solve one of his problems.

He merely shows up, smiles happily, and through foolish luck solves the problem, the following evils that occur afterwards, and ensures a happily ever after.

The high priestesses, those who have thrown themselves at the feet of Olympus, have always envied the lazy heroes gifted and chosen out of the blue. They're good-for-nothings, they grumble. Noisy, messy irresponsible things everyone loves. They have no use but as a vent for jealousy in failure.

So ignoring him is always the easiest solution to the problem. She twitches with exasperation, leans her head against the rattling dirty glass pane. **Yes. Large clumps of dirt with snow on top. **

Twenty three days, and nothing on the outside has changed. Nothing but a mere ripple on the surface. There is still hope to shooting him or turning him into a spider or throwing him off a mountain. She can still save her clarity.

He deflates slightly, and then perks up, leaning against her. **Ruki--**

Yes? She leans away, and wonders what he'll ask of her now. Perhaps to sing with him?

If I died when I was skiing up there, would you cry? he is oddly concerned, as if this is actually a possibility. The white slopes they are heading to are almost as flat as one of the waffles the song he sang adored. 

She tilts her head up from the glass pane. **I'd bury you.**

She goes back to trying to sleep without being noticed by him and carsickness. There is an edge to her voice, rough and cracked and full of all the pain that she's not supposed to have. Only heroes are allowed to suffer, since they suffer dramatically and handsomely to create plot-enhancing problems. No one is interested in the nausea from continuous jolting in a minor high priestess.

It's not quite the response he wants- but he didn't really expect her to say yes, she'd cry and die from heartbreak- but he laughs and falls silent.

**Sorry, I'll leave you alone. **

The bus is chattering, chattering, and Kazu and Kenta are singing the waffle song- yes, admittedly, even worse than Ryou's version, if this is possbile- and it is odd. The water in the pool has stopped trembling, and she is clear on clear again, bleached of color.

It is odd.

She supposes it's nice, after twenty three days of painted squares of color in more shades than the rainbow, floating inside the clear pool of water that she used to be. Relaxing. Tranquility returns.

But unnervingly odd.

Ryou is staring out the window, and he too is nearly clear, skin almost gray in the winter's white light. The hero is silenced.

**Ryou**, she starts. She searches for conversation that will not push her past the twenty three days. Something neutral, bland, and unromantic in any sense. Because high priestesses don't happen to be lovely, wonderful and mushy girlfriends. Diana didn't exactly run after Ares, did she? And if Zeus started singing like Ryo, Hera would throw _him_ off the mountain.

**Are you okay?** She ends lamely, looking at his quiet face. And she is right, she decides, to ask. Because he is too quiet to be mentally stable.

If he ever is.

He looks at her, headache strained, carsick face, and tugs her ear towards him, one hero's sudden impulse. **Lean on me. **

**No**, **I'm fine.**.

**I'm not.** He tugs her hair now, gently**. Lean, please? **

The high priestess grumbles and leans her head on his shoulder. And admittedly, it's softer than the window, and eases the jolting bumping of the bus that is rattling her brain and making the water that is her splash around with nerves and headache pains.

**There. Happy? **

The hero smiles back. **Yup. Unless you want to go and come closer, Ruki-_chan_**-

He relishes the suffix as if it is the most delicious taste of water from the high priestess's pool that he will steal.

**No, Akiyama.** She glares at him. Twenty three days still has its limits, no matter how soft of a pillow another shoulder's sweater makes. **No. **

Laughter from the hero, and she breathes out as color starts flooding into the pool again, bright orange rays of warmth, bumping and jolting her head can live with.

He begins to hum, the same chorus of the inane waffle song. She looks up at him, the water disturbed by the falling of a colored reflection onto the still waters, and she doesn't growl. He smiles, and tells her he'll wake her up when they get there.

Perhaps every once in a while, even the high priestess has a use for the good-for-nothing, chaotic hero.

Even if it is only as a pillow.

* * *

I need to write oneshots every once in a while, and not feel commited to do it fast. (And I'm trying out a different style in each one too!) So yes, I agree, this was probably horrible. But it was inspired by an Ouran Waffles AMV (do you like waffles?) and a lot of brownies and a video game. (yeah we like waffles). I have a list of one hundred themes from my friend, and I'm going to try and make myself do ALL of them! 

Hopefully this will be a positive learning experience, a good stab at writing oneshots (ok, I'll hope for something that's not bad, to be realistic..) and of course, that this beginning wasn't_ too_ horrible. (this theme was hard..)

**The 100 ryuki fluff challenge begins!**


	2. father figure

She was bleeding, she noticed first, and it hurt.

Well, then. She was alive after all.

She ran through her mental checklist. Her head hurt, her hair was hanging around her face in greasy, soaked strands. Her eyes were sore, and her arms had been scratched up. Legs- stiff, from waking up after being tossed onto a concrete pathway in a reeking alley, between garbage bags full of yesterday's rotten produce, with the remains of a banana peel draped over her arm, her wallet gone, But she was alive.

Pretty much, anyways. And the other guy was much worse.

Picking herself up, Rika begins the walk home.

**ryuki 100 fluff challenge.  
**theme 02. _father figure._

It was a long first half, with a scraped knee. She establishes her facts, feeling every muscle burn and hurt as she twitched, every part of her feet that ached with each step.

It _was _her fault though, for walking out of a store alone, holding heavy bags filled with groceries and a wallet clinking with loose change. It was one of the most stupid things to do in a darkening parking lot on a lazy Friday night. When she was young, it would have been fine. But then again, she had had a safety net, a silent guard padding along side her in the edges of shadows. There was no vulnerability then, and no thought of falling. She could run on a dangerous tightrope blindfolded and holding a time bomb, in her arrogance and security. If she faltered, a shadow would be at her back steadying her. If she fell, there would be a cushion to take out the pain from the tumble down.

But now that she was alone, her eyes opened, and Rika looked down for the first time.

And it was a long way to fall.

For a second, she wishes that someone knew where she was. Her no doubt hysterical mother, even. And maybe, a father that before he had left, a long long time ago, had lifted her off the sidewalk and bandaged her first scraped knees. He had been her first safety line, and even if he had flickered out, at times like this, she wanted him back. Even if for two minutes, and she would be stuck with the dizzying vertigo of being left alone again.

Anyone.

But as a city bus pulls to a screeching, complaining stop on the unmarked sidewalk behind her, and a shouting figure sprints toward her, she takes it back and changes her mind.

Addendum.

Anyone, she decides, minus Ryo.

-

When he sees her, he panics.

It isn't clear who is more in pain- the mugged girl with bruises and a black eye, or the cool, handsome hero of the fangirls' constant devotion.

"Who did this to you? Why didn't you run? Or call the police? Or call _me_?" This last is the most obvious to him- for was it not the obvious first choice, after all? - and he mentally scolds her for being so stubborn. He hovered around her, like an anxious father on a girl's first date. He is _frenzied_.

"Why?" He pants, out of breath.

"You didn't ask."

"Well of course-"

"I got mugged, okay?" Hopefully, this will end the questions. "It's that simple."

A mistake, however. "Did you see their faces? Did they- you know- touch you at all- I mean- "

"No."

He sighed in visible relief, the panic leaving him like a deflating hot air balloon.

"People get mugged every day. Think New York. Think Tokyo. Think the supermarket after nine on Fridays."

It is winter, and she is shivering, Rika realizes, as she speaks. What a pathetic figure she must be, bleeding and snapping and standing here arguing to him. She stinks. She is sore. There is a lettuce leaf stuck to her shoe. Her pride has been beaten, and then dipped into salt and tar.

But Ryo wraps her in a bear hug anyways, despite the smell, and she winced as his coat scratched against sore skin. He smothered her in the warmth of wool, as if he was trying to squeeze warmth into her frozen bones. "Don't _ever_ do that again-"

She pulls back and snaps, her hair swinging around her face, the angry broken pride slapping him with bitterness. "Same to you."

And before he went into further hysterics, she walks faster, the pavement a growing stretch behind her

She didn't really want a father, Rika grumbled to the pretty much useless fairy godmothers above. And especially not a frantic Ryo to have to take care of as she walks the uphill path towards home."

"Hey! Rika, wait up!"

After that hug, there is no need to stay still and freeze for him. Rika picks up her pace, almost jogging. He grows smaller and smaller, his voice quieter and quieter with each step she takes. Eventually, if she moves far enough way, she thinks, he will just be blotted out of existance, and she will remain alone on her tightrope. There will be no trembling, no shaking- and if she falls, it will only be the fault of her own actions-

"Rika!"

She feels guilty, almost, for making the normally cheerful Ryo worry like that. He really was worried, his face drawn and lined with lack of sleep. Behind her, he was calling her mother, and painfully drawing all eyes passing by in the Saturday morning traffic as the two chorus together on stubborn daughters, hospitals, and the national guard.

"At least take the bus!"

Rika swung around, frustrated. "OK, I'll take the bus." She holds out her hand for the fare.

He reaches into his wallet, searching through receipts and pennies. A bottle cap. Several coupons. A two-for-one sale notice on athletic shoes. Twelve tiny photographs, each with a flash of red hair.

A minute passes.

_He's broke._

Not only did the fairy godmothers send her an annoying father figure of some sort, but he had to be broke enough not to afford a bus fare.

He smiled, as charmingly as he could. "I'll carry you!"

This did not even deserve a monosyllabic response. Rolling her eyes, she turned and started walking once more.

"You're cold!"

No response. Lack of money and worse, the bear hug had rendered him as one of the victims of silent treatment.

"Take my jacket, at least!"

No response.

"Here." Exasperated, a black jacket fell over her shoulders.

No acknowledgement.

"Honestly, pumpkin."

She turns and glares at him, the jacket swinging like a foreign cape around her shoulders. Two twin dragon-smoke breaths floated through to the sky as they walk on, silent.

But Rika, no matter the verbal response, has stopped shivering.  
-

They reach home, one worn out Ryo in tow. She had to rescue _him_, in the end; he nearly fell down a manhole as he had watched her, wincing at dried scars and searching in vain for a drugstore to raid.

To Rika's great displease, she is stuck in bed. Thanks to her grandmother, there is no national guard, only tetanus shots, but there is still too much fuss for her own sanity. One parent is enough, she grumbles. Go away. Go scream and worry somewhere else. She turns over in bed, staring at the wall.

Mild chaos.

And then there is no one but Jeri and her grandmother, the two calm buoys floating in the fuss- which has evolved into an all-company dedicated search for the thugs, complete with jail time and hard labor- and silence is there as well, beckoning with sleep.

"You know," Jeri says, looking up from the knitting she is learning, "he _was_ worried about you."

"My mom is enough. I don't need another screaming person around, and he doesn't owe me any favors-" She stops. He does, technically, owe her quite a few. '- He's just too much like a _dad_ for my own taste, okay? He _fusses._" She hasn't had a father for so long, she isn't sure if this is the right term. But he is so similar to Jeri's own papa when he sees his small darling after work, and Alice's father when his own daughter comes home past curfew, and to her own granduncle's reaction when Rumiko comes to visit that Ryo seemed to have nominated himself for the position.

Her grandmother winds tangled first aid gauze into a neater loop. "Most girls marry boys like their fathers."

Jeri smiles.

Rika throws a pillow at them, and turns toward the wall.

"Whatever," she says, and falls asleep under a soft black coat of wool, smelling of fathers.

**

* * *

**

**Authoress technique used!**

Eh, I wouldn't call it a technique. I just wrote everything in present tense on mistake, and I bet there is quite a few mistakes that (even though I did read through a few times) I haven't caught. (Oh yes! By the way, I'm switching between "Rika" and "Ruki" with my mood. Please understand. It's just that somethings are "Rika" stories. And others are "Rukis". I'm still adjusting to name changes..

But I kind of like it, even though of course my writing isn't too great.

Hopefully you do too.

If you don't, you can tell me all about it, of course, by clicking that lovely review button right there.


	3. fourth umbrella

**ryuki 100 fluff challenge.  
**theme o7. broken umbrella.

It is gray out. Supposedly, it's a _green_ winter, but there isn't anything green about it- everything is brown and rainy and as dreary as death warmed over. Puddles and mud pop up overnight, flooding the streets with small seas. The world is moving slower today, sluggishly fighting their way through the cold rain. Hell is here- thirty three and a half degrees and raining, the mud piling so high that you could expect Noah's four-wheel SUV caravan to pull around the corner for another forty days and nights.

It is bitterly cold, and it is raining, but does the school district care? No! Of course not. They have walked for many more miles on rougher ground in much colder weather with emptier stomachs when _they_ were children, and the lazy students of today needed to develop character.

School continues as always.

And as four umbrellas plod slowly from home to school, all the character they are developing escaping from the tops of their heads with their body heat, along with any patience that they had even after rolling out of warm beds into the frozen early winter morning

The first umbrella is bright pink, and they go cheerfully together, like puzzle pieces locking into place. They chatter like little children, sharing a rushed breakfast of rolls grabbed hot from the bakery ovens. The sun is with them, hanging inside of their umbrella cheerfully.

The second, a somber, mature black, settles comfortable into the same pace. They discuss safe, responsible, and mature things, with the occasional mild spark as they walk together. Wet, grumpy wood that hasn't had coffee doesn't burn well- it will simply smoke.

But they were getting there, and hidden somewhere in gray smoke, there was a tiny bit of heat emerging from the dark damp wood.

The third red umbrella results in a two boy shoving match, each pushing and jostling to get the most space beneath the shelter of an umbrella. Both are soaked in the process, and laugh their heads off. It is against the purpose, yes, to do this, but that is what they will do. They are like that, they laugh. They have known each other from birth, and raindrops here and there don't do much but give them colds to skip school with together, hanging out all day and pigging out on junk food supplied by overly concerned mothers.

The fourth umbrella, however, is having problems.  
-

"_Why_,_" _she grumbles, carefully stepping over a puddle"are _we_ stuck together?"

"_Because_," he mimics her, "_we_ are the beautiful people. We have to stick together. And by the way, Ruki, " he adds, "you're looking as gorgeous as ever." He splashes through the puddle, splattering her with the spray.

"And you are as annoying." She grabs for his yellow umbrella, getting ready to plow ahead, itching to sprint forward as fast as she could. But no, Ryou grabs her hand, holding it tight around the metal pole. She struggles free, and hits his leg with her own broken black umbrella, soaking his left thigh with raindrops.

"I hate getting wet, Ruki." He smiles at her. "So I'll keep the umbrella with me."

She glares at him, spitting ice out of her eyes.

"It's my umbrella," he says. "I should charge a forfeit from you for using it." He winks.

"_You _broke _my _umbrella."

"Do you want me to pay the forfeit then?" He raises an eyebrow and smirks.

Ruki edges to the furthest possible distance at the edge of the umbrella that she can, trying to avoid the rain as well as the more disagreeable thing that is pouring on and on today with utmost stupidity.

The umbrellas come to a small sea in the middle of the road, and both bodies move- Ruki to the left, and Ryou to the right. Stuck together with Ryo's tight grip on the umbrella, they don't get far.

Holding firmly onto the hand before Ruki decides to cut and run, he estimates the size of the puddle with calm concentration. "It's not that far. We could jump it."

"No, idiot. We can just walk _around _the puddle, you know."

"That's not fun at all," he grumbles, eyeing the water. "It'll be easy."

"You're too heavy. We won't get off the ground."

"Fine," he sighs, and scoops her off of her damp feet.

"_I'll_ jump then, Ruki."

In response, she slaps his arm with her free hand. He wobbles forward, gravity puling him towards the mud and chill of the pond that has pooled up in this unfortunate dip in the road. Ruki grabs his neck, shouts into his ear.

"_IDIOT_!"

He laughs and balances himself safely.

"Put me down, Akiyama."

"I can't, Ruki dear."

The free hand hits his wrist. "It's not exactly an _option_."

"Hold the umbrella steady."

"Put me down!"

"I'm saving you, Ruki, from the killer puddles of 35th street."

The fourth umbrella bobs up and down in the rain, a yellow point dancing drunkenly in the air as it shouts and laughs.

Ryou leaps.

She shrieks, and holds onto his hair in half of a split second of panic. They are going to splash into the stupid puddle, she knows it, and it is all Akiyama's fault that she will be completely wet and miserable and she would just _kill _him when they landed, no matter how much he grinned and laughed and thought it was a stupid funny joke—

For a moment though, they are flying, the yellow umbrella becoming a sail against the wind.

And in the other half of the split second, a smile flashes across her face like a tiny ray of sunshine darting in and out of the downpour.

Catching herself a second too late, she frowns to his grinning, infectious face.

"If you didn't break my umbrella, then this whole stupid thing would never have happened, stupid. I have no idea how you can accidentally break an umbrella that's worked for five years."

He shrugs his shoulders. "I'm just that talented, you know."

"Idiot," she growls again, and pulls him forward into the gray streets, daring any puddle to come in their way again.

But Ryou Akiyama of the fourth umbrella grins.

Who says, he wonders to himself, that he broke the umbrella on _accident_?

And the fourth umbrella runs to catch up with the others, hands locked together against the rain.

**---  
**experimentation by authoress. (so I'm sorry if it totally sucks.) My internet has been VERY shaky, so I have to post as fast as I possibly can. It only just got back up after a very very long time.. I'm copying (and messing up badly) a style I found in my literature textbook the other day. The site's been _really_ shaky lately for me, so I'm typing at the speed of a cookie going down my brother's throat.

**But reviewers, I still love you as much as ever!**

(_and hopefully, this chapter didn't flop, strangle itself from bad quality, and die. If it sucked, give me tips on improvement, please!)_

-liahime.


	4. trip and fall

_If you want me to fall for you, you have to give me something worth tripping over._

"If you want me to fall for you, Akiyama," she said, heartbreakingly cold after he had told her at last, "you have to give me something worth tripping her." She did not look at him, keeping her gaze cold and fixed on the door behind him.

"I see," he said, shakily. "To trip over."

"Yes," she said, standing up. "Tell me when you can find something. Try to amaze me, Ryo." Her voice was dry and steady.

Watching her leave the table and head through the door, he stuck out his leg in a lightning flash, a heart taking one last blind stab before sadness.

She stepped over it at the last second. "Nice try, Akiyama."

**ryuki 100 fluff challenge.  
**theme o4_. trip and fall._

It had been fourteen and a half days since she had last seen Ryo, and she was worried.

It wasn't like him to take things so hard. He was made out of light without shadows, of sunbeams and dancing waves and immaterial, shape shifting things that never stayed in one place. The kind of thing you couldn't really trust with something as heavy as a heart or a sadness.

She lay on her bed, wondering if he had killed himself out of despair, or worse, decided to pursue another girl. Because she was used to him now, just as she was used to mosquito bites in the lazy summer nights and sand getting into her shoes and never coming out again no matter how many times she shook them.

Because without the mosquitoes and the eternally sandy shoes, summer wasn't going to be quite summer any more.

And in the same way, life without a "wildcat" or a "pumpkin" wasn't going to be quite life anymore.

Perhaps she should have said yes.

Part of her had wanted to say that. Yes, I love you too. Let things be simple, let things be happy, to plunge into life with a blindfold to guard her against the menacing future. Let us be together, let our world be tinted in rainbows and sunlight and flowers.

But that wasn't what she was made of.

She was ice and stone, heavy and solid and aged, knowing what had come and was to be. Every shift, like glacier or mountain, was planned out. Every plunge was calculated, every landing was executed perfectly. She didn't dash. She didn't rush into things. They were as different as stone and sea. Take the stone and put it into the sea, and it drowns, losing itself in the waves until it is gone. Take the salt water and drop it onto the land, and it evaporates, leaving only a faint ring to indicate that it was ever there.

And most of all, she never, ever tripped.

"Akiyama, you idiot," she whispered to her uncompassionate ceiling. "You shouldn't have said anything."  
-

It was two in the morning, and she hadn't budged an inch. Had heard her mother laughing, had heard her grandmother's lower chuckle, had heard people come and go, doorbells ring and shut behind quiet feet.

She didn't care about _him_, really. She wasn't thinking about him, she wasn't wondering why he was gone so long, why no one knew where he was. She was a decent person. She just wanted to know if he was dead or something. Lying here, staring at her white ceiling and doing nothing but drowning herself in music? That was for herself.

She was just tired.

That was all. Just tired.

But maybe she should have said yes.

She knew him, and worried just a tiny bit. He had always had a love for the dramatic.

_You're better off. You did the right thing. He's always been flighty and idiotic and can't stick with one thing. He's like a wave. He comes, knocks down a few sand castles, and then he leaves. Forget him. He's moved on by now. Just like every girl he's tried for. _

_You're not a special case, Rika. You joined the "tried-and-failed" club. Congratulations. One more tally mark for Ryo._

_Now you move on too._

Her phone buzzed slowly next to her, tapping out a beat onto the wooden floor. Not moving, she picked it up and flipped it open. "Hello?"

Jeri's voice came out, high and urgent. "Rika! Hurry and come. There was an accident just now- Ryo was out running and now he's in the emergency room." A shuddery sigh shook the phone line. "He got hit by a milk truck." Jeri broke into sobbing.

Grabbing her jacket from the floor and dropping the phone, Rika stood, her mind nagging her.

_-- Why hadn't he called her first? That idiot!_

_Well, I don't know, Rika. Maybe because you broke his heart and made him start running at a stupid time in the first place.__ But probably not, huh?-- _

She swung open the door and ran forward, bare feet tapping down the thin hall, picking up speed as she went, feet hitting the ground faster and faster.

And running, felt the air hold her left leg back as the rest of her moved forward, cutting the air as gravity and a white string stretched across a doorway pulled her backwards.

"Caught you."

She looked up into his face- his not-hit-by-a-milk-truck-at-all face- and over his shoulder, into a room lined with strings stretched tight across doorways, from table to door to lamp, ready to trip any unsuspecting person.

"Liar," she said to him, frowning at him.

"But you did trip."

His face had an eager look to it, being held back because he knew that she hated sloppiness, over emotion, drama. 

Maybe she should have been disappointed. Maybe she should have been sad. And probably, she should haven't plunged.

But then again, maybe he should have moved on by now to another, easier girl. He should have been long gone, not taking this or her very seriously.

But he was back, and she was smiling.

"Yes," she said, "I did."

"So, Rika," he said, nervous, but voice steady as rock. "Did you fall?"

"Actually, Akiyama-" she began, looking straight at him, knowing exactly what she would and wanted to say- and yet, still faltering here, as if she was made of something immaterial, refusing to solidify into words.

_When the earth meets the sea, there is a change. The earth lets go a bit, the water solidifies. They join in sand. The earth moves forward. The water will stay still. _

_Compromise._

"Yes," she said, "I did."

* * *

**takari freek- **yay, I'm glad I got Ryo in character this time. I'm trying to get better with keeping characters as themselves and not OOC. (I've never watched Cats Don't Dance, but now I want to so I can find out who this Ryo-like Danny is!) Thank you for the review!  
**kawaii-pal- **I have no idea how to break an umbrella besides running over it or something, so I had to cut that part out... thank you very much!  
**crest of music-** Thank you very much! I'm glad you liked this oneshot. It was fun to write.  
**Kari Minamoto- **Yup, I'm trying for present tense, just to try a new style out. You're right, the phrasing got kind of awkward in some places, and (because I was lazy..) I just plowed through. I really should work on it. Thank you for pointing it out!  
**Lonewolf and Hiei- **My internet is behaving nicely, yay! Thank you for the review, and I'm glad you liked the story.  
**Dolce Saito- **Yes, I noticed that! What a coincidence! (Maybe we're in a similar timezone or something?) Thank you for the review!

**authoress comment:** Well, _that_ was fluffy.

I missed my hard-core fluff and romance very much though. I got through this completely in one night, which is the fastest I have ever, ever written something for this collection. It was completely based on random things, and I am not extremely proud of it. I had to get the fluff out of my system though, and can only hope that you were in the mood for fluff too.

Thank you for reviewing everyone!  
-liahime.


	5. safety net

If someone you love hurts you, cry a river, build a bridge, and get over it.

That's what he was told, anyways.

But then again, he remembered, he was never really good at following directions in the first place. They're normally like "guidelines", he believes. Things to follow when convenient. When they made sense. Normally, he let them fall back to the back of his head, allowing them to poke him lightly, but nothing more.

But today, as he sat on the side of her bed, holding her long hair- Jenrya had always preferred it longer, and she had grown it out to make him happy- watching her expel the contents of her stomach out into a plastic garbage can, Akiyama Ryou went a step further.

Today, for her, as they always had- or should have, at least- the directions went out the window.

**ryuki 100 fluff challenge.  
**theme o5. _safety net._

"Go away," she said, angrily brushing a strand of red hair from her hot face. She didn't turn to see what crazy robber or burglar or serial killer was opening her porch door with a credit card.

It was like this before, and she is used to it. This was the time before the ring, when the wire was beneath their feet and they bounced together, each movement affecting the other. Before it all snapped away, the tension building between them slapping a wire into each face.

"Ruki," he said, tucking the card into his wallet, "It's me."

"Can't you go through the front door like a normal person, Ryou?"

"No,' he said. "Can't do that, sorry. I'm just that extraordinary."

Even though she felt the bile rising in her throat, and the choking surprise of the doctor's tests that were kicked under the bed, she felt her lips twitch into a grin before they began to cough again, a rough bark rising against her throat.

He swept her hair to the side, sitting on the bed beside her. "Someone has to hold the garbage can for you," he said cheerfully. "You aren't too good at multitasking, pumpkin."

"If I'm a pumpkin, then what are you? A radish with testosterone injections?"

"I'd rather be something cuter. Like a tomato. Or maybe something phallic."

She groaned and swatted at him. "I'm a big girl now, okay? I'm _married,_ Ryou. I can take care of myself. "

"But _I'm_ going to have to mop up when you miss."

"Disgusting bastard."

"You're welcome, Ruki dear." He pattered her shoulder.

"Stupid test," she growled under her breath. "Stupid husband. Stupid, stupid, stupid." But he could feel a hint of happiness in her voice, like the sun in eclipse. The way it used to be, when there were no rings or pregnancy tests between them. No others, just the silent, mutual agreement forged from years of repetition. He would tweak her mane, laugh, and she would growl, the edge of a smile creeping up behind her voice. They had danced closer and then further, balancing on thin wire to keep things ever the same. Don't steal the girlfriend of a close friend. Don't leave your boyfriend for an impulse tugging on your heart.

Be friends. Follow the simple, stated directions. They were balanced, hands held as they leapt on the wire, each movement pulling the other. Everyone had expected them to last forever. _They _had expected it to last forever, this dance on the wire with the other as safety net to pull unwary feet back up when they slipped too far.

But the wire snapped with matrimony, and they had no need for the directions anymore. Both went flying off as the tension broke, going off through the air, one hand lost in the freedom of independence.

He handed her a glass of water. "Rinse, okay? After that, we can form a stupid club. We can put in stupid people, stupid things, stupid food-"

Almost hobbling to the sink, she spit grumpily. "You can be president, Ryou."

"Thank you, Ruki dear."

"I feel seasick."

"Very sorry." He looked at her, poking his head over her shoulder to see her reflection in the mirror. She was drawn and gray, as if she had been reinvented with charcoal in the morning light. Even her hair was paling, the red a softer, tamer candle light, the long strands falling loose over her back. As if she had been dropped and relit too many times, a wick burning low.

She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. "I look like death's week old leftovers."

That was true, but he didn't say anything.

Pushing past him, she rolled back onto her bed, turning her back to him. "Go away now, Ryou. Go to your girlfriend of the week. Go eat. Go do _something_ else, okay? Thank you, thank you, you can leave now."

In response, he handed her a saltine, taking one for himself as well. "Sit up and eat your cracker, beautiful."

She took the cracker from him and sat up, her hands on her volatile stomach. "Liar."

They chewed in silence, filling the room with crunching.

There was an echo of selfishness in this silence. Because when she fell, he simply caught her, not wanting to put her down onto her own feet and let her go. And she said nothing to her husband because she wanted to hold on to her own belief that she was strong, when she stood on her own. He leaned towards her, bumping her shoulder gently, and she let him. For a moment, they were back again, the tension building up to that same comfortable hum in which things could happen, when it wasn't a happy fairytale, but a never ending game. Where failure was not a possibility, simply because the other was there, and both refused to lose with such stubborn will that it could not happen.

"You okay now? I can go to the supermarket and buy anything- soup, medicine-"

Ruki nodded, finishing the cracker and leaving a tiny crumb on her pale gray cheek. "Absolutely perfect, Ryou. Go away now, okay? I need to call my husband."

He reached out, his hand an inch away from her face, his own nose almost brushing hers, searching for an excuse to move the last few centimeters needed for contact. For a second, they were together again, the tension picking up from where it had left off in a wire that had been pulled between them, vibrating with the pulls from two forces..

After all, his optimistic half nudged him, she had called him first. There was always that tiny, tiny chance, no matter how wrong it would be--

She ducked underneath his hand, the crumb falling away as she stretched for the phone. "Bye, Ryou."

"Don't miss me too much, Ruki." He stood up, stretching.

She nodded, dialing the numbers for Jenrya's office into her cellphone one by one. She didn't bother to search the speed dial list, searching for the number that she knew wasn't there was pointless. And Jenrya was never much for emergencies, anyways. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes, leaning against the wall.

He patted her shoulder awkwardly, and with aclick, he was out of her life again, the credit card locking the screen door neatly behind him.

Akiyama Ryou was never too good at following directions. When his heart broke, he didn't cry. He didn't get over it. He simply stayed, waiting on the wire for her, ready to keep picking her up when she stumbled, break her fall when he was too late to catch her.

This moment died, just like all of the others that had come before it, from a broken connection. No words were spoken. No problems addressed. Nothing big fixed.

Falling had not been a possibility then, simply because the other's hand was there.

And when she drew her hand away, he was there, with simply acceptance. As a safety net bends to allow the dancer to fall with as little pain as possible.

He was there.

**

* * *

****authoress note.**

**first things first. **Any similiarities between this work and any other is purely coincidental.

Total credits to MC Mong's "A Letter to You". I have listened to it about a hundred times in one day, I think, and because of it, was able to write for the first time in at least a week. And to finish something in one sitting. And I'm not tired of it yet. If there is choppiness, it's because I'm listening to Korean and thinking in Korean, and the conversion to English is weird. And yes, this ending was absolute garbage, hm?

**Eclair Tonnere- **I'm going to be blunt as well. I must confess that I was offended by your accusation. _I don't plagiarize_. I barely have time to write, let alone read stories on this site. I must confess that I haven't been on for quite a while. Both the "died" and "girls marry boys like their fathers" quotes came word for word from _my_ _own life._ "Died" came from a trip to Tennessee, when I went on a giant swing, and I asked my friend what he would do if I died on the way down. "Girls marry boys like their fathers" came from my own father when he was asking me if I had a boyfriend a week before. Both sayings are common among people in real life, as well as in stories. This site is large. There are going to be some things that are going to be similar, especially when people don't have time to check many fanfics for similaritie. And any similarities are all merely coincidences, which I should have stated in a disclaimer a long time ago. I'm sorry, but I really feel like I can't apologize for anything more than using well-known sayings and a lack of creativity on my part.

**Dolce Saito- **You're first again, which is amazing. Thank you so much for the compliment. I was in a bit of slump, and reviews always poke me and make me feel like writing again.  
**elarhy- **Thank you! I do have a looong way to go. But I'm going to try to finish this collection by this time, next year. (Haha, long deadline, since I'm lazy.) I have no idea how to break an umbrella myself, so I had to leave that part out of the story. And since I'm a bit short on umbrellas right now, so I can't try myself. (Hot chocolate! I am really craving some right now.)  
**Anon- **Wait-- are you asking for a new chapter with the two already together, or are you asking me to change the fourth oneshot? I can do the first one, but I have a thing about rewriting endings- I only do them when I _absolutely _have to.  
**takari freek- **Thank you very much! I'm glad that oneshot wasn't too awkward. That ending was difficult. I had to drop it for a while and come back to it a few days later to finish.  
**karika88- **Thank you! I was thinking about doing that, but I couldn't make it work for some reason. I had to just chop it off there and end it. (eh, I could have tried harder, but I wasn't in the mood that day.)  
**Kari Minamoto-** merry christmas to you too! Past tense is refreshing and so much easier.  
**Kawaii Kitty-chan- **Thank you, even though it's nowhere close to perfection. You caught my mistake! (Before I did!) I should really be more careful with reading these things over. I get so used to them when I write that I can't catch obvious mistakes like those.. I really need to look into finding a beta. Thank you very much!


	6. bringing her home

**Disclaimer: **Credit for formats and themes to threemeasures at LJ. Digimon doesn't belong to me, and this was a sincerely original piece. I get too hungry to go around and plagiarize, I haven't eaten dinner yet and I'm starving to death here. Oh yes, and hopefully this won't be too horrible. 

**ryuki 100 fluff challenge.  
**theme o6. _bringing her home._

**A. Ruki.**

1. camera obscura

The cab is dark, and the three of them are awkwardly in the backseat of a taxi, knees edging back and elbows tucking in, trying not to touch each other. Two boys stare everywhere, trying to look anywhere but the girl between them. Gray eyes and blue eyes stare out separate windows and into eyes of amethyst, reflected in the rain drops, emptied of all emotions and becoming simply what they were compared to- gemstones, cold and hard. She looks through them, not bothering to change for anyone, not even the two heroes that dragged her halfway across a city from the clutches of a downtown gang, risking life and limb to pull her back.

But then again, she was the only one of the three who was ever really, truly brave, they think, guiltily avoiding all touch and contact.

Despite the cramped cab, three pairs of eyes manage to avoid each other completely.

2.in thunder, lightning or in rain

The thunder explodes in the sky, and she flinches, recalling gunpowder storms and strobe light lightning flashing red and blue, red and blue.

"I'm fine," she says, a second before even they realize something is wrong.

If they weren't so freaking scared of the girl they had been sent to bring back home, two hands would have flown to hers, squeezing tight in a demented Morse code that only they knew. One for a warning of danger, sharp ears and iceberg eyes latching onto a disturbance. Two, for a reminder of caution, guns ready. And three squeezes, light and quick as a flash of lightning in the darkness, for the half arrogant flip of red hair, reminding them that they would be fine.

The thunder rolls again, and she bites her tongue so that she won't flinch.

3.depth perception

One look into her eyes, and they used to know.

Like the cousin of the proverbial plank of wood, there were no words between them when they were out in the dark. She didn't believe in unnecessary talking, even on the old routine stakeouts in the car with a bucket of fried chicken and rolls between them. Words would burst out later in the safety of headquarters- she'd berate them for taking idiotic risks, would grumble of sexism, that they should let her go out further and stop treating her like a little girl. But in the end, they didn't really need the words- sounds were really like accessories, tacked on to a smile that despite the risk, was dancing excitedly in her eyes.

But now here in the cab, finally safe again, she leaves her eyes closed, tongue bitten, and they realize how lonely silence is.

**B. Jenrya.**

4.gangland

If there is one thing that he won't forgive himself for, it was for letting her go into the warehouse first.

_He_ is the one who specializes in killing people quickly, despite all of the exterior talk of peace and _still _babysitting his little sister, twenty six years old or no. First off, Ryou hesitates before each shot, and worse, he closes his eyes, not wanting to see the face on impact, no matter what crime against humanity has been done. He feels sorry for them, no matter what they do.

And second, each person she shoots gives Ruki a few more nightmares.

He fires off three shots when he sees her fall. One for Ruki, one for a shouting Ryou racing to her body-

And the third for his own small satisfaction in this hell, he thinks, watching the crowing man who fired the oh-so-lucky shot in the warehouse fall to his face, bleeding his life out onto the gang's kingpin as Ruki's life leaves her eyes slowly, the shell being sprinted further and further away from the lost life as the gang outruns his bullets, fleeing into the cold Tokyo night.

5. 27.

It's the number of men that it took to kidnap a girl, and the number that he shot getting her back.

It's not really revenge that prompted the number. Really, it's just that he's always been neat.

So as tempted as he is to shoot a few more in his anger, he lets Ryou cuff the survivors for interrogation while he stacks corpses for the local morgue. Twenty seven makes a pyramid, nine on the bottom row, then seven, and five, three, two, one. Twenty nine or thirty wouldn't stack quite as nicely- and he hates to leave a mess.

He spits on their bodies, and pulls out an antibacterial hand sanitizer, letting the clear gel destroy 99.99 percent of the germs on the hands.

The 0.01 percent of the germs stay with him, because guilt is something that has developed a strong immune system in his body. It is a virus that keeps spreading, no matter how many times he tries to crush it or clean it away.

6.middle finger salute.

Their cab pulls to a stop, and they are surrounded by the press, all wanting to see her, capture her, make her face and story their own with their words. Rumiko's daughter, they scream, the lady cop, the heroine. Look at me, they shout. Smile for the world, baby. Say cheese, grin big, put your pretty face on.

He is about to tell them off, but he hears a hoarse voice breathing into the microphones, eyes speaking so clearly that they can't help but understand her foreign language.

Her eyes flash ice, and the verbal accessories form a chain of words of something he knows he really shouldn't repeat in proper society, a solitary finger saluting them for the second before she is herded into the hospital, her life hanging onto its shell by the thin edge of a thread.

He smiles.

**C. Ryou.**

7.a crowd

_Welcome home, wildcat,_ he says, his mouth smiling wide . These are the first words the three of them have really heard in a long time, and he knows he is botching them with his cracking voice. Jenrya would probably have said something wiser, something that would heal her. But he doesn't care, because words, they know, are simply accessories for the rest of the world to admire. He had walked into the room, commanding himself to be mature, to be a strong rock for Ruki to hold onto in whatever flood she's facing, no matter how much he wanted to cry and yell at the girl for scaring him so much by nearly slipping off the mortal coil.

But there is no response from the girl sitting in the cold, white hospital bed, just shallow breathing through bruised lungs. Her eyes are closed tightly, her lips pursed.

He promised himself, he reminds himself.

But Ryou believes in context, and he can't watch her like this and be a rock for the same girl he's held on to through breakups with girls he actually liked for once, through his sicknesses, through his fights with father and family. He's going to be impulsive and stupid and immature, and he doesn't give a damn if they're staring at him and shaking their heads now, even if the doctors are staring at him and his boss is openly gaping and the rest of the world is looking at him, expecting him to hold up and be strong, just like the rest of them.

So despite the warnings about her fragility and the state of her cast and the psychological trauma she has been through, how delicate and glass like she is, he lifts her off the bed and hugs her, all of her red hair falling onto him so that the world is nothing but pale ivory and flame, cold but solid in his arms.

Annoyingly, the warnings come true.

She breaks.

8.the measurement of life

When he hears her start to cry, he hugs her harder. Because he knows that she was only partly broken when she was taken as hostage, and that she's lost somewhere inside of the messy armor that she's cobbled around herself.

Her cool, pale hand touches his arm, pulling away, almost scared- which in turn frightens _him_, because this is the young queen of his childhood that wasn't afraid of anything, that charged into chaos alone. She wasn't supposed to get scared.

But he looks into her wild, emptied eyes, and holds on, watching them fill up again with life.

9.unfinished trilogy

It is said in geometry that the triangle is the strongest shape, valued over the golden rectangles and eternal circles and loops. A triangle, with three sides holding onto each other, will span waters and hold buildings high in the sky.

In their unorthodox, unprofessional hug, three tremors runs through them, like a wave hitting the span of a bridge. One for the danger that was, an awkward, quick squeeze, sides joining again once more, arms tightening and then pulling away.

The second is impulsive, Ryou not sure how their third side would react, but not really caring enough to stop himself from smothering a girl only a little more than half his size and a dignified man not sure if their triangle were going to survive.

And the third comes from the inside, arms spreading out and eyes speaking again, because in the end, they're going to be okay.

---

OK, guys. I've been writing a million things, and I finally gave up and decided to roam around lj to see if I can make _something_ passable, and more importantly- finished.

I have the most disgusting block. I have a thousand good starts and a thousand garbage endings. So there won't be any reader replies because I am swamped with work and the only way I can get things like this up is by doing them as fast as possible. (Internet problems, homework overload, being sick.. the list goes on.) I swear I'll do reader replies soon, and that I'll catch up with it all.

Sorry about this, everyone. I hope you understand...

-liahime.


	7. bad day

**ryuki 100 fluff challenge.  
**theme o6._Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day.._

It has been a truly _crap_ day.

There are no nice synonyms or polite adjectives to cushion the bluntness. Ruki has been splashed by a bus. She blanked out on a test that she had spent a whole night studying for. Her hair has chosen today, of all days, to curl and frizz with her fraying temper in the growing humidity.

It's been one of those Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad, Day, she thinks, remembering the old children's book. She _deserves_ this break. She deserves to forget about her homework, to let the essays go unwritten, to let the ties of every day life drop away into the shadowy, cobwebbed backburner of her brain as she does nothing but run, run, run. Guilt hangs over her like a knife on a silk string, threatening to drop down and pierce the thin eggshell of relaxation into pale fragments, letting the world of papers and trigonometry functions spill in.

But she runs, because she is so sick of life at the moment that one simple knife of guilt over her head is clean and simple, a relief from chaos.

She bites her lip and runs faster on the trail, leaping a branch as if pure speed will pull her away from the nouns and adjectives and let her be simply a verb, and nothing more. The world around her is a thick green gray pudding, edges blurring like a watercolor left out in the rain. All that seems to be free from the thick air are her feet- everything else is either stuck or left behind, and she's not going to wait up and let things catch up.

Her mind, her heart, her eyes, her ears- all are drowned in the rushing pudding of humid, sticky work, and the guilt of escaping. She doesn't care too much anymore- she's too tired, too worn, far too deep in the mess to care about drowning anymore. The world is silent but for the soft thump of tired feet on the shell that cuts her off from the rest of the world. Her feet hurt, her ankles are scratched, but she keeps moving, because to stop would require thought, and that isn't available right now. It's a safe place to be, this shell, and if she has to sacrifice a few things, then so be it.

There is a heavy crunch behind her, followed by fast, ragged breathing. Awkward crashing and shouts. It sounds as if an elephant is rushing down the trail behind her, each footstep causing the thin shell to tremble.

**Ruki!**

From the inside of her armor, she looks at him with a cold runner's eye. His face is a bright red, and his shoes are untied. If she allows him to run with her, he is going to slow her down, she knows, and he'll probably want to break the comforting silence of her egg with his loud crashing, and even louder breathless conversation. This is Ryou, after all. His name is synonymous with conversation.

By stopping, the thin shell has already fractured, a crack running up its side as thought rushes back into her world and the forced silence and serenity she has bottled up within her spills out onto the ground. Part of her clings to the safety and wants to speed away to salvage whatever is left of the shell.

She turns away from him, tightens the rubber band around her hair, and sighs. **Hurry up, Ryou. I'm not waiting.**

She doesn't turn, doesn't crack her shell further. Unsympathetically, she runs a little faster down the trail, ignoring his loud complaints. He has cracked her shell and the yolk spills away from her, peace and silence slipping away. The shell protecting her from the rest of the waking world is gone, each new step shaking a fragment away from her.

**Wait up! You run _fast,_ wildcat--**

**Bye, Ryou. **

She runs, and he follows. No words pass between them.

But as the world comes washing down on her, she finds the corners of her mouth twitching upwards, and suddenly, the day is looking better.

* * *

**liahime's not in a good mood. And the quality of this probably reflects that.**

I personally feel that it would be better _not_ to do personal reader replies. (No time. I'm sorry!) I still love your comments very much though- they all brighten my day so much. Thank you all!

**Anonymous,** I credited the LJ community 3measures. This is where I got the themes. In case you haven't noticed from a previous misunderstanding that got cleared up, I do tend to get very annoyed when I'm accused of plagiarism. I believe it is "BAD," as well as quite and rude and very offensive to accuse people without checking your sources completely. It's similar to _libel. _Suppi-chan's story _also _credits a LJ community by the same name. I just read what I wrote, and I don't mean to be so cold, and I apologize for any rudeness.

If any of you out there have further accusations, PM me please, so I can reply without having to write another one shot just to get a message across.

Thank you, and I apologize for the delay. Now that my EOCTS and midterm papers are done, life can resume as normal!

**--- liahime.**


	8. merlin

When you were young, what you wanted most was to be Superman. If the position was filled, you would have settled for a six foot six firefighter with a pet dog, to be a grownup that didn't have to go to sleep until ten at night and could watch cartoons instead of going to school. It's what _everyone_ wanted. No one had dreams of being an accountant or a secretary. Kindergarten was filled with the heroes, princesses, and rock stars of tomorrow.

Unlike most children though, you got your wish.

The princess's portraits were splashed across the evening news, and plastic figurines were boxed into cereal packages, action figures with three catchy phrases and moving plastic arms, nine ninety nine with shipping and handling. You were one of the children who saved the world! _Wunderkind_, prodigies, child heroes. You were gilded with the sparkle of attention, all of your chipped, gray faults hidden underneath a glittering coat of gold. For the first time, every fault you had was gone; you blended in with the rest of the golden children.

But now you are all nearly adults, and you've gone gray again, sparkle gone. The cameras have turned to new geniuses, new _wunderkind_ with destinies that haven't been filled, lives that are new episodes with cliff hangers, not the same old reruns of children growing old and falling apart.

(There is no sound but the tapping of a laptop and the lapping of water against the lake shore, and this is a tragedy.)

Ruki was never going to be an accountant. Takato would never have joined the police force. Jenrya, despite all mature thoughts, was never going to work in biochemistry, slaving over medicines and far off cures. They had dreams then, still gilded with the gold of childhood.

And you, you were going to be someone as well. Someone so much larger than life. A hero.

But things changed, didn't they?

( The raft drifts lazily from the pier, and you wonder if you can go back in time and take the wishes back, drop the destiny, and if one day, you can go back to being a child for a few weeks again. )

**ryuki 100 fluff challenge.  
**theme o6._merlin_

You once were Merlin, an undefeatable enigma, and Ruki was the Morgan of the earth, and once upon a time, far away, the two of you danced on warm grass and remembered slow winds being lazily carried into summer by green winged warrior dragonflies. You were able to sing then, and she had been able to touch a living petal without setting it aflame with pent up anger, and the world had been spring then, blossoming into summer.

But no one is young and reckless anymore - except for Jeri. She is preserved immortally young as the world runs over you over and over with the four-wheel drive of fate and tragedy.

Death has come to you.

You two once were wildcards together, blessed by the fates, given a life so charmed that you could simply _be_, without the fear of falling or failure. Before you were glorified by myth and by powers above- cereal boxes, multinational business conglomerates, makers of action figures and writers of gossip columns- the two of you were just there. Never falling, never growing weary, simply bantering and meddling and solving. Everyone shone then, glittering with gold leaf and chips of cut glass.

But it is winter now, gray and white snow blanketing the world, and Morgan is a dragon blazing her loss and rage, and you have willingly trapped yourself under the boulder of your grief. There will be no more Popsicles and purple tongues in the summer, no banter between a blue eyed boy and a red haired queen, no familiar shouts and jokes. There will be no more snowballs hitting backs with deadly aim, or calm, levelheaded friends to pull you out of a mess when there is an "adventure" that gets over your heads, or short honey brown locks pulled by goggle headed boys simply because _she. is . gone. _

You know that she wanted you to be happy, for all of you to be happy, but really, no one in the small huddled group is able to catch an eye or laugh- you're all nothing but selfish, cold hearted bastards that won't- can't- won't—both so easily intertwined and confused-be happy without her there.

( For a moment, you are jealous, angry, involved in the sorrow that clings to bent backs and red eyes. Jeri will never have to deal with this, will never have to suffer like you do. It is always easiest for the one who goes first, your mind spits bitterly. You deserve to be selfish. )

Guinevere was always considered a fragile queen. She had her regular mini-dramas and small stumbles here and there every other week. Out of all of the court, she was the one who could recite the names of movie stars, the one who knew how to put on makeup outside of black nail polish and Miss Barbie Beauty Eye Shadow. She wasn't as powerful as Morgan, as clever as Morgause, as mysterious as Nimue. She was simply the earthly, solid queen, who had no apparent use but to love and to be loved.

But when push comes to shove and death comes for life, Morgan falls apart, and for all her experience in the area, black robed Morgause can do little, and this Nimue, still far too young to understand the rules of grieving, simply holds onto any spare leg that she can spot through her years and howls until a knight smooths things over, buries her childish grief with pasted smiles and sugary substitutes. The irony is sharp and painful- the girl who you all supported constantly through soap-opera-worthy dramatics and tears was the backbone of the group, the hurricane eye. And now that she is gone, though you are gathered here in body, you are nothing but a blob of useless material, stray winds without a knot to hold them together.

It is harsh.

But it is true.

Jeri is dead, and the myth is over, all of the little children dropped from the sky and landing harshly onto the ground to mourn and to burn and to hide from life under safe boulders, waiting for the day when they can wake up from the nightmare.

Only Ruki still looks you in the eyes, the same honest and brutally cold facts. She is the plain blunt truth that no one will else admit, even when it stabs her in the heart over and over, though she will do nothing more. Over the edge of her laptop, you catch the message, sent flickering across the sand of the lakeshore.

_We're not broken yet, _you hear in strains of purple, and her eyes say this like it is a tragedy, not something to be proud of. And though her body makes no move to acknowledge you, she still remembers how to anticipate your questions after all these years apart and adds onto her first message. _We need to be. _

A bone needs to be broken in order for it to be reset, for it to heal. Ruki was a doctor once, before Jeri died, and she knew these things, still has these things echoing inside of her accountant's brain. She was a doctor that specialized in breast cancer- yet another of life's supreme ironies. She had saved twenty women, part skill and part through the simple, childishly unrelenting stubbornness against the odds of the machines and medicines. All twenty are alive and thriving today.

She did not know them, didn't grow up with them, didn't laugh and run and know their pasts and future dreams.

And yet, Jeri, patient number twenty one, is gone.

There is a fracture between the people by the lake that only you and Ruki can see, though everyone else can feel it just as much as you do. It's painful, and none of you wants to say the wrong thing or hurt the group even more. You are no longer children or heroes by simply luck alone, you no longer have the natural gifts of grace and courage because you have looked down, you know how far you have to fall. You are no longer blind enough to either ignore it forever or to break it and be done. It is easier, you grumble, to simply let life pass you by. Holding onto things that disappear is only going to hurt in the end. Better to stay immortal and unattached from the world than to suffer and die.

Ruki's eyes look up at you in the same way they did five years ago, when the two of you were eating ramen on the same sand, when you talked and joked and bantered back and forth. The purple is still as clear, even if they are veined with premature red from sleepless nights, shadowed with the heavy bags that came with her work.

_When you were young, what you wanted most was to be a hero, one that could save his friends and family from danger and sorrow. When you were young, you wanted to _do _something to save people. _Her eyes are pouring volumes of guilt onto you simply by _looking,_ just as they did when you had disappointed her in some way.

_So did you, _you say, lashing out at her. _You wanted to be someone just as much as I did. Why don't _you _do something?_

She says nothing, just locks her eyes onto the keyboard and types furiously, a quick run of numbers flowing from her fingertips. And under your solitary prison, a small part of you is smug, proud. It exults in the victory of a battle fought in your self-contained world. It settles back into you, satisfied.

But the tiny, shriveled hero-fragment of you peeks at Takato's shaking back. Looks at Jenrya, who looks like he's going to drown himself in the lake in the next moment because he doesn't know what to do. It shakes and shrivels further, because if the courageous couldn't do it and the steady brilliance couldn't solve this, then why should _you _be able to? You're simply a guy hiding under a rock, not an Arthur or a Gawain. You protest. You never were a hero, there was never anything really _good_ about you. The others may have been pure gold, but you have always been gray hidden under gilt, pretending to be someone brave while hiding behind talent.

You look at Ruki -who isn't crying, doesn't look like she'll drown herself anytime soon- but is simply staring empty-eyed into a screen of numbers as if they are her whole love and universe now. And though your courage takes an even harder hit, you realize that it is _you_ that will have to break this bone and reset it, if only for the sake of not having to see Ruki- the Morgan, the bright, the powerful- bite her lip until it bleeds to stop its trembling.

Under the boulder, the hero-fragment that hasn't flaked away quite yet realizes that she doesn't do anything simply because she _can't._ Morgan doesn't have what it takes to heal a kingdom, doesn't have the strength, and so she simply hangs on, her weight pulling the rest down faster.

You take a deep breath, and then another, because you've never been that good with people. Charm and charisma are different from actually being "good with people." It's the third irony- you've known these people for your whole life, or at least every event that deserves to be called life. You've always been one of the loud voices in the small huddle, always one of the people talking when there is nothing to say and everyone wants you to shut up.

And yet today, overwhelmed by the pain of a partial fracture, perpetual pain, your mouth is empty.

The sun comes out encouragingly from behind a cloud.

If you believed in signs and weren't desperately searching for a way out of this huge mess, you would have thought of it as an omen.

Deep breath.

Check once more from beneath the boulder, test the air.

_Are you sure you want to do this? _

You look at Ruki, eyes lined with a bright, empty red. Jenrya, leaned back against a tree, his skin gray. The puddle that has leaked from Takato's eyes and into the pale sand of the lakeshore. You feel the fracture that broke Morgause, Gawain, Arthur. That broke you.

When you were young, what you wanted most was to be a hero, one that could save his friends and family from danger and sorrow. You are old now, and you still aren't a hero. You're a coward peeking out from under a rock. You probably won't be a hero in your lifetime, probably won't be pure gold like the rest of them. You're still going to be scared, and you're still going to hurt.

But you open your mouth and crawl out from under your rock and into the sunlight.

_Listen, _you say, unsure. Heads turn. You nearly bolt to the rock once more when the weight of their eyes hits you. But you are Merlin, you remember, and though you're mostly made of gilt, there is still a tiny hero-fragment of you that is of gold.

_I know this is going to be awkward, but let's talk, okay? _

_About Jeri. _

( The fracture breaks cleanly in one sharp burst of pain, ready to be reset and to knit together, and Ruki nods, imperceptibly. )

It is still winter, and you are all still gray. Still crying, still hurting, still half-dead with confusion and grief and shock. But the sun has found its way back into the sky, and the bone has broken cleanly, ready to be set into the position it was meant for.

(Across the sand, you think you hear a _thank you_.)

Healing begins.

* * *

**Incredibly rambling run-on sentences, yes? **(but then again, liahime is a rambling kind of person.) 

**But I got so involved with this that it embedded itself into me, and you all get to read it. I created some random alternate-universe scenario, and somehow liked it for some reason. If you don't like it, you can either skip it, or read it and get to know who liahime is a bit more, right? I do have to experiment to improve after all, and experiments mean flops... such as this one... **

**Hehe, bad excuses. **

**Authoress, shutting up and doing replies now. Yes, from waay back on Chapter 5.**

**Dolce Saito- **You're always so fast! I love seeing your review pop up almost as soon as I post up these chapters. Thank you very much! (That police thing needs to be edited. I reread it the moment I posted, and I decided I didn't like it. XP )  
**crest of music- **Someday, some shot, they'll get married. Keep reading to find out when! (haha, it'll take forever. I'm a slow worker.) Thank you!  
**karika88- **thank you! I'm glad you liked it.  
**Elarhy-** I like sad things. Thank you for the umbrella-breaking ideas! I think I'm going to end up writing something on this someday. Everyone seemed to be really interested in it for some reason…  
**Éclair Tonnere: **I wasn't in the best mood myself that day. Let's just forget about it- I was also at fault, since I haven't been doing my disclaimers too well. Thank you for coming back and explaining!  
**Anon.**- here's the thing. When I feel like writing that kind of thing, I will. And when I don't, I won't. This is selfishly meant for me, so I can slightly improve with time. I may write fluff, but I'm not going to be doing it full-time, okay? Thank you though.  
**maritobi-** I like sad things too. And MC Mong. I think I need to stop listening to depressing drama music though, and start writing happier short things. Thank you for review!  
**Lone Wolf and Hiei-** Thank you! The Ruki-Jenrya thing was something I really wanted to try and sneak in. (and I suppose I'm glad I have good grammar. XD)  
**Kari Minamoto-** I wish I could just do a blanket disclaimer… but anyways, thank you! I hope I can finish all 100 shots. I have a lot written down, but I can't get them to a slightly upload-worthy quality.  
**Takari freek- **Thank you very much!  
**le-petit-chou**- (-trumpets for the (late) appearance!-) Hehe, my dedication's not too great. I really need to start working on this. Is grammar really that bad out in the world? I haven't been reading anything on lately… I'm stuck in my little shell right now. During summer break, I'll really try to work on this more. Thank you very much!

**Augh, these things are getting really long. From now on, I think I'll PM replies, if I do them. Since I don't have that much time, and I'm going to be practicing short things, I don't want to spam too much… **

**Thank you for reading everyone! **

**-liahime.**


	9. unrelationship

**ryuki 100 fluff challenge.****  
**theme 09. _Unrelationship._

**20 things that Ryou admits about his girlfriend, Makino Ruki**

**1**. There never is really going to be a lot of romance between Akiyama Ryou and Makino Ruki. There will be nothing for the dying fan girls to jealously watch and squeal over. Ruki has too much dignity to snuggle up and moongaze all night. She has a mountain of homework to do if she's going to get high school, and Ryou is going to get a matching diploma, or die trying to keep up with her.

**2.** No matching costumes for Halloween. No sweater sets for the winter holidays. No coordinating outfits, no identical ring tones. The only things that will match will be carefully plagiarized sheets of math and grammar homework, and that's pushing it.

If there is one thing that she hates, it is losing herself in someone else's personality. Especially in one as bright and colorful as Akiyama Ryou's. She's a shadow person, she says. Not a poster paint and sunshine type.

**3**. After the rare occasion of Ruki resting her head on his shoulder, Akiyama Ryou's shoulder aches for hours afterwards with the aftershock of staying perfectly still. It's romantic and all, but he's secretly glad that it doesn't happen very frequently.

**4**. The truth be told, they're not going to be the _supercouple _or _shoujo romance pairing_, no matter how hard anyone tries. Just because they're in love doesn't mean that she's going to melt, that he's going to (finally) settle down and mature. There won't be any love-love kiss-kiss mushiness or small notes written in pink gel pen being passed between them.

**5**. Neither Akiyama Ryou nor Makino Ruki think that the trappings of love and romance are foolish and pointless and most of all, stupid. (Well, Ruki is obviously lying, but she makes an effort.) Their friends do them all the time. Jenrya stuffs a rose into a locker on occasion. Juri throws notes overflowing with hearts and gel pen scribbles.

It's just that there simply won't be any of this stuff in _this _relationship, because even though they aren't _bad, _they are (besides being foolish, annoying, and manipulative schemes from gift companies) more than a bit slightly expensive, and both are dead broke.

**6**. She hates it when he calls her Ruki. "Wildcat" and "pumpkin" were never serious: they were light, childhood nicknames, and easy to ignore. But when he calls her Ruki- devoid of honorifics, no joking _–chan_ or ­–_hime_ attached- she shivers. The cutesy ­­–_chan_ and the joking ­–_hime_ annoy her much more, but whenever "Ruki," and nothing else comes from his lips, she knows that he's serious. He's only done it twice so far, and only bad things have come from it.

**7**. Akiyama Ryou smiles a lot, and seems to be happy most of the time. But he bottles up for weeks at a time, all the anger that he holds in boiling to a fever pitch inside of him, trying to get out and explode. After watching psychology talk shows, he realizes that he is a potential mass murderer. He warns Ruki of this, and she laughs. _Welcome to the club, _she says.

If he was looking for sympathy in a girlfriend, he admits, Ruki would probably be on the bottom of the list.

**8**.There _will, _however, be fighting. Arguments. Bickering. Glares. Overprotective scolding.

Simply put, life will go on as normal.

**9. **Once, Ruki actually _did _wait for Ryou to rescue her. The waiting period lasted for about four minutes, but after that, she came back to her senses and returned to her practical version of sanity once more. And by the time he _did _get there, the problem was solved, and she told him off for being overprotective and for running out of an exam to save her, with words that would surely get her sent into a year long detention if a teacher had passed by at that moment.

She's too ungrateful, stubborn, and independent to let some guy save her. She doesn't care if other girls would swoon and faint gracefully. And sometimes, he realizes, she simply doesn't want to be a problem, an extra burden that would be treated as a duty or a chore.

So the next time that some jerk dares to mess with her, he's there before she can decide if being rescued is okay or not.

**10.** Ryou has already picked up the infamous Ruki-glare, even if it does make him look a bit like a frowning porcupine and Ruki bursts out laughing whenever he tries it.

**11**. According to the All-Wise Queen of Couple Behaviour, Juri Katou, it is required that couples share several things: heart-to-heart talks, the bill after dinner, and soy sauce bowls. Akiyama Ryou puts wasabi in his soy sauce. Makino Ruki's face will turn red after even the slightest hint of the fiery wasabi.

She doesn't tell him that, and keeps eating her sushi, drinking massive amounts of water to keep her face at a normal shade.

**12**. Sometimes, Ruki isn't sure if she's in love with him or not. She _might_ be, but she can't imagine being in love with someone that cheerful and bouncy.

But then he brings her hot chocolate as she does (his) homework, and she remembers that she loves him, at least for the moment.

Ryou isn't sure if such an unstable relationship is a good thing, but it's lasted so far, hasn't it?

**13**. On Valentine's Day, Makino Ruki always bakes cookies and leaves them in his locker, right in the middle of every other bag of anonymous messages of love and baked goods. She has never told him about this, and continues every year, secretly smuggling them in before his arrival.

**14**. On Valentine's Day, Akiyama Ryou always finds them, and they're the only cookies he'll eat. The rest are dropped off at the local soup kitchen. He's never told her that he knows she's baking for him, because he doesn't want her to stop anytime soon.

**15**. There are no illusions of a happily ever after in this relationship. On the first date, Makino Ruki informed Akiyama Ryou that he was free to leave whenever, and that she would be leaving the moment she wanted to.

Exactly forty-two and three-quarters of a date later, she tells him that the offer has been revoked.****

**16**. Makino Ruki is not a goddess. Or a super-hero, an undefeatable warrior princess, or an ice queen. Or even anywhere close to perfection

For one thing, Ryou notes, she snores.

**17**. In summary, Ruki is cynical, unromantic, lacking in sympathy, stubborn, mule headed, ungrateful, insecure, in denial, flawed, and she can't decide if she loves him twenty four hours a day, seven hours a week.

Ruki, he is told quite frequently, is not _girlfriend material,_ and that he could do so much better if he just tried.

**18**. Quite frequently, Ryou tells the insightful commentator that reminds him of this that_ no, he couldn't do better, thank you very much, go away._

**19**. When Ruki is with Ryou, she's not mind-numbingly rainbow-and-bluebirds happy. She doesn't laugh 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. But she's made her choice, and she has decided that she'd rather be alive and sane than happy and nothing more.

**20**. Ryou doesn't know if this is a good thing or a bad thing. But she's there, right next to him, carrying her own textbooks and listening to him.

And that's all that really matters.

**Author note. **

I'm going to watch POTC 3 today! YAY!

Since this was horrible, I'm not even saying anything about it. Except that I'll probably do another one soon. (hehehe, sorry.) I'll warn you in advance. I want to get better at this 20truths format because to write it well, you have to be good at the things that I am bad at.

**A big thank you** to all reviewers. I want to post replies, but I can't because of lack of time. Keep commenting, criticizing, etc. for me, please!

-liahime.


	10. double edged sword

**ryuki 100 fluff challenge.  
**_theme 10. double edged sword._

"Ruki," he says, his nose hidden in the deep darkness of a pot of boiling water, "can you at least tell me _why_?"

"Pass the salt."

His face remains in the pot, away from her tearing eyes. "Ruki. I need to know."

"You're going to poison the soup with your breath."

"Ruki, _please._"

"Why do you need to know, Ryou?" She picks up an onion, mercilessly chops it into paper thin slices with her sharp knife. "I'm not changing my mind. It's not going to make a difference at all."

"Please, Ruki. Humor me."

Beggars drop dignity for things they really, truly want- you can't be truly proud and scrape the floor at the same time. It is impossible to say that Akiyama Ryou hasn't gone to great lengths for her. He's saved her from death. He's gone on bended knee. Akiyama Ryou has sang, has danced, and has done it all to charm his way into getting everything from free lemonade to a discounted sports car. But these things are trivial, light jokes that he makes- the outcomes don't matter. He floats above it all, a puppet master hidden inside the laughing, joking blue-eyed puppet. His dignity is never really gone.

"Who said I ever loved you in the first place?" Her words, she knows, are unnecessarily harsh. But they leap out of her before she can stop them. And strangely enough, she's unrepentant, savoring the cruelty as she buries whatever's left of her heart with each blunt stab of her tongue. If she does this right, he'll live with his dignity intact, she'll leave with her heart gone. They'll stay standing after it all falls down.

"Then why did you put up with me? Didn't you ever love me? Even just a little bit?"

He raises his face from the boiling water to look at her. She can see him struggle to keep things light, to keep things consequence-free. He has always been too proud to beg, even when it kills him. For a moment, she wants to take it all back, to abandon stupid _loyalty _and _character _for heart and hormones. She chops faster, concentrating on everything else, anything else. It's just stupid chemicals, she knows. In the end, whatever "love" she had was just hormones. Chemicals that blind an eye and send illusions of things that aren't really there into whatever your "heart" is. It was simple biology- hormones neatly packaged and delivered from neurotransmitter to neurotransmitter via the brain's electricity. Love is nothing but microscopic bits of fluid, the heart a bundle of squished, wrinkled matter. Whatever she's saying, she tells herself, is simply going to affect the tiny bits of chemicals in his brain, probably only for a month or two. Eventually, they'll settle and he'll be floating in happiness again. For Ryou at least, things will end happily.They always do, in the end.

Ruki has never been good at lying to herself.

Telling him will end this all, severe it, and let them continue on with their now-fairytale lives. She knows this; it's a fact that she's established and accepted in her life. No more shaking, no shivering, no tripping up after making it so far. What she does today will smooth things over, and life will continue on as it should. They'll get the normal, happy lives that they've always wanted. Ruki takes a deep breath, pretending to take a break from the onions, and plunges into murder.

"I asked you to pass the salt, you know."

"Forget the stupid salt!"

She flinches, and he continues, more quietly. "I need to know. Tell me, Ruki, please."

He's still standing, his back is rigid, his mouth tight. But his eyes are begging her, and seeing this, Ruki wants to start life over, press reset, and change everything for him. She knows that what she's being completely unreasonable, but in the end, when all the trivial things are pushed aside, she's never turned down any of his requests. She doesn't follow him like some obedient pet- she's never come close to that, and never will- but really, truly, when he _asks_ her, in some odd, round about and grumbling way, Ruki will answer him.

Until now.

Her nose settles on a distraction. The scent of onions and the heat of boiling waters is all she feels, all she smells, the only pain that she has right now is the smell that makes her eyes water. That's all, that's all, that's all. She has to do this, she knows. If she doesn't finish it off before it gets too late, she'll never be able to do it again.

She remembers something Jeri told her once, a long time ago. _You always hurt the one you love, for their own good. _And that's what she's doing now- she's justified. This is for his good. She stares back at him, freezing her eyes into cold, empty holes. If they're leaking now, it's the onions that are causing the icebergs she's conjured in place of her eyes to melt. Nothing else.

"I prefer not to, Akiyama Ryou."

"Did you do all of that for nothing, Ruki? I seriously thought—"

She turns away. Her hands are blurs now, mixing with onions and steel. There is no answer to his question, simply purple eyes turning red around the corners. She tells herself its because she's being cruel, shutting him out. That maybe she never really did love him enough to put him above everyone else's. That things are better off as they're going to be. Her dwindling honest streak prods her, but it too is buried with the rest of her guilt. Today, Ruki is merciless, slicing him down with her double edged sword, ignoring any of her own heart's blood spilling out in her attack.

"Oh really?"

He blurts it out. " I thought it would be _you_, okay? I seriously thought that I had found _the _one. For once."

She slides the onions into the pot, and the water hisses angrily. "And yet you're engaged. And I'm married. So I wasn't _the one_ after all."

"Ruki, all I'm asking—"

"Hand me the wine."

Heavens knows she needs it. Maybe the soup doesn't, but she pours a generous amount of it into the pot anyways, wrinkling her nose at the thick, bitter smell. If she stays unattached, calm, unmoved, then she will be unaffected. And anyways, eventually, it'll all be over with and she can cry over it when no one's watching, when the happy endings of her friends' lives are secured.

"—did you ever love me, Ruki?"

She picks up another onion, and begins chopping once more. To tell the truth or to not tell the truth? The answer is obvious. She's going to lie. For her sake, for her husband' sake, for Ryou's sake- for the whole friggin world. She tells herself that it's for the best. One sacrifice for a hundred happy lives seems like a fair enough trade.

"No."

And after this, it's all down hill.

Ryou smiles, playing it off. "Well, that really helped my self esteem. I'll send my therapy bills to you, pumpkin."

"Your fiance's a therapist, Ryou. Get an employee discount or something."

Life will be dull. But maybe dull is the answer to some form of stable happiness. Dull will last, dull won't change. And in the stability, there will be some sort of _happy ever after_ that will somehow work out and last, one that won't hurt a hundred other people for the sake of two. She can tell he'll be content, eventually. His fiancé? Overjoyed. The drama that has built up over all these soap opera triangles will finally die off, and the curtain will close.

For a moment, all she wants is to have everyone else in the world die so she can go do whatever she wants to. No duties, no conscience, nothing. But coming to her senses, Ruki laughs at this ridiculous piece of greed, and out of habit, Ryou laughs as well. And for a moment, everything is a bit closer to being okay.

"You're not crying, are you?" His stupid concern and his stupid caring and his stupid habit of hanging on are all making this infinitely harder. "Ruki—"

"Of course not. It's the onions." She concentrates on stirring the soup. "I never cry."

"Of course. I forgot."

Life goes on. No one dies of heartbreak, and if people cry, they don't admit it. There is no eternal misery or constant heartbreak. Soup is served, people go home laughing, and slowly, the curtain closes with a rusty sigh on the _what could have been_ that is no longer there.

Ruki and Ryou have a happily ever after.

It's just not the ending that they hoped it would be.

* * *

-**sorry sorry liahime.  
**liahime actually really truly has about seven chapters waiting in the wings. And they're all about 90 percent done. I just can't write the stupid endings! (There's always _some _stupid problem with each one- like this garbage ending. I'll try to hurry though. I'm so far from a hundred.. ack.. ) I was experimenting with this new style with this shot, and I completely totally failed. As normal. I'm probably going back to my old style instead of this choppy fragment thing… it's not working out for me at all. It's too much like my own thinking process, and then I get all depressed, and then I have to go watch corny old cartoons.

Anyways. Moving on…

**readers, feel free to chip in with ideas whenever. I need truckloads of inspiration please? I love you all for reviewing, and I'll try to get a big fat reply page up ASAP.**

**-liahime. **


	11. minor acrophobia

**ryuki 100 fluff challenge.  
**_theme 11. minor acrophobia._

"On three, okay?"

"Or maybe three hundred."

For once, it's Ryou that's rolling his eyes. "Ruki."

She sighs. "Fine. On three."

_

* * *

__Makino Ruki has never been afraid of heights._

* * *

They've been going back and forth and back and forth for so long that it seems as if there never was a beginning and that there will never be an end to the cycle. Their bare feet kick up at the pale sky, sandals long gone. Her fingers curl around the creaking metal chains that send their precarious seats soaring up into the sky. These are details that have never changed, not since the beginning, when they first kicked off the ground and began their flight, details that may or may not have lasted for eternity. And if they have, the girl suspended high above the ground doesn't know, and doesn't care. All she wants right now is to have solid ground underneath her feet, earth she can step on without fear. 

"You're sure about this, Akiyama?"

Her voice is clear, without any of the quavering and trembling that he had half expected- and sort of looked forward, he admits- to hearing. But she is Makino Ruki, after all. The girl who's lived so long with a tiny worm of fear- she calls it _intelligent and reasonable doubt_, Ryou calls it _pessimism_- that it has become a part of her, so familiar that it's impossible to pick out of her usual behavior.

They go up once more and fall down again, and he watches as pale skin stretches taut across her knuckles as her rigid fingers tighten even further around the rusting chains. An ordinary person would simply look up at her, shrug, and move on. This is a girl who shows no fear, they would say. How can we find something when there is none in the first place? Her face is calm, her expression blank. There is no trembling or hysteria.

But he isn't Akiyama Ryou for nothing, after all, and he hears the flickering shadow of doubt buried beneath the layers of her voice. So instead of arguing his case, he simply grins at her and leans back as he flies forward into the sky. "I'm sure, Ruki."

"It's a long drop," she says, conversationally. "You'll probably land on your face and break your spine."

"Nope," he says, with such assurance that makes her wonder if he actually believes the idiocy spilling from his mouth, "we're going to fly."

She snorts. "Yeah, right." If they keep talking like this, maybe they'll go on forever, never touching the ground. She doesn't mind heights at all. She's fine with going hundreds of miles up into the sky in the belly of a winged metal whale. Makino Ruki isn't one of those little girls that squeal and shriek just because her feet are a few feet off the ground.

"Are you scared, Ruki?"

"Of course not," she snaps. "It's just a swing."

"Sorry. I should have known. Are you ready to jump yet?"

For a moment, the only sound is the rush of far away traffic and the creaking wood bending slightly with their weight.

"Yeah," she says, finally. "I'm ready."

_

* * *

Makino Ruki has never been afraid of heights. _

It's just falling that bothers her.

* * *

"On three," she says, staring straight ahead into the disappearing horizon, away from the ground that seems to get further and further away with each kick. "You can count." 

Maybe if she closed her eyes and didn't _see _the ground, she wouldn't hit the soil and break all of her bones on impact. Maybe Ryou was right, they'd fly and never touch the ground again. (Though whether an eternity in the sky with Ryou was torture or blessing, she wouldn't know.) And maybe she was being an idiot, she told herself. It was just a jump. A jump that a six year old could make.

He nods. "Whenever you're ready, pumpkin."

All she had to do was let go and fall. There was nothing difficult involved in this- just fling yourself forward and let gravity do the work for you. Ryou could do it. All of the little kids that had swung on these old swings before had leaped off, not looking back. All she had to do was trust gravity and get ready to fall. She's seen Jenrya's sister leap off of this swing a hundred times, and there has never been a single drop of blood shed, an ankle sprained. And if that little girl could do it, then couldn't Makino Ruki, one of the heroes of the human world, the girl who had battled her way to the top and stayed there, be able to do this just as well?

She draws in as much breath as she can, calming her shaky, irrational nerves. "Start counting. We've been up here forever."

"Wait for a moment, okay?"

Ryou grabs for her hand, prying the reluctant fingers from the chain. Thrown off balance, the swings slow down, nearly scraping their feet on the ground as they swing back together.

"What are you doing, stupid?" All of the pointless physics she's learned in school comes rushing into her head as they swing up once more, Ryou pulling her with him as they swoop up and down in a crazy, wobbling line. Center of gravity, air resistance, and all of the other useless stuff that now serves one purpose in her life: to remind her about how easy it is to crash and fall. "You're going to kill us both."

"Then," he sighs, "we'll die together. You can blame me. It'll be really romantic and all that. You'll be on the news and have a shiny gold statue, like in that one Romey and Jules play."

For a moment, she's caught up in his ridiculous logic. "I don't _want _to be a st—" she shakes her head and tries to pull her fingers away from him without disturbing her precarious balance on the thin rubber seat. "Akiyama, let go of my hand. I'm perfectly fine."

"More than fine," he smirks, eyes twinkling.

"You disgusting, perverted idiot-" She nearly forgets herself, and her other hand lets go of the chain, ready to slap the smug grin off of his face.

Together, hand in hand, they are swept up towards the heavens, propelled by momentum and rusty metal chains.

"One-two-three-JUMP!"

He flings his body forward, pulling her with him into the sky.

And together, they fall.

A scream slips out of Ruki's mouth, unbidden, and she's surprised to find that this isn't the shrill shriek of fear. Ryou laughs, and she finds himself laughing with him, even as the ground comes closer and closer at a dizzyingly fast speed.

Because for a moment, even Ruki believes that they're flying.

_

* * *

__Makino Ruki has never been scared of heights. __It's just falling that bothers her._

_But flying, she decides, isn't too bad._

**

* * *

**

**authoress note.  
**(I'm experimenting with lines.)

Yes, this _is_ OOC and has a really bad ending (and middle and beginning)! Everything I write has these oh-so-wonderful qualities. But I can't keep Ruki as a whatever-year-old forever, right? No one's exactly the same from eight to eighty…so I'm sort of guessing on how the character would be like at different ages… and giving her acrophobia… and um… changing the character a lot, I suppose. The evolution of Ruki according to liahime's messed up imagination.

Forgive me… I'm so busy with the real world of homework and eating and stuff like _I can't believe it, I read part of Harry Potter 7 in Target the other day and had to leave just as I got to this cliff hanger thing and I'm so mad that I'm going to scream my head off and… _that I can't write enough. I'm having doubts about 100 shots, unless I start writing 100 word drabbles…

**But thank you, I love you** to all my beloved review-pals, and most especially to my most dedicated reviewers. You guys keep me going.

-liahime.

_p.s. _this was going to end with a big crash on the ground thing, but liahime decided to cut it off before that point to be kind and have a fluff of an ending.

Much love---

**The laziest author ever.**


	12. perfume

**ryuki 100 fluff challenge.  
**_theme o12. perfume._

For a moment, he's a bit confused. He's not quite sure _why_, but Akiyama Ryou is pretty sure that girls are supposed to smell like gardens, a Bath and Bodyworks bouquet of freesia and cherry blossom.

His mother, or what he remembers of her, had wrists dabbed with the faint scent of lilies, white flowers drifting out of the dark. His aunts have their own scents, loud and familiar scents of dusky flowers and passion fruit. And when he walks into school, trying to find a path through a seemingly endless sea of giggling girls, his nose is bombarded with the faint perfumes of fruits and flowers of all seasons, all worlds- mango, gardenia, cinnamon and roses.

He leans forward, trying to grab a bit of the faint scent that lingers in her presence. It's a crude, earthy smell; stone and mud and snow soaked hair that has frozen and thawed over and over again in the falling ice has come together in an odd jumbled perfume. It's a scent that lacks refinement and beauty or any sort of elegance. If it was in a garden, this scent would be the smell of winter, when the petals have fallen and decayed to dust and all that's left behind are winter birds, flying away.

She tightens the hair tie around her frozen hair, and takes off down the hill, red bird in flight. Still in mid lean, he watches as she flies down the snowy hill, her hair burning a path down the hill as she swoops and turns, skis carving a path through the ice. There is no lingering perfume left behind in her wake, just snow and sweat and the ice crystals that flew into the air as her body hurtled down a frozen mountain just a few moments ago.

She doesn't have magnolia blossom or jasmine on her wrist, no ephemeral, petal thin delicacy that makes his hormones want to jump up and protect her. Perfumes are made to entrance the nose, to bewitch the olfactory system. They carry the messages of flowers and all the meaning and significance hidden within the folds of petals and pollen. Innocence, purity, sultry hints, beauty. In a way, the perfume is a statement that a person makes: smell, this is me, this is what I am. Fall in love with who my scent says I am

But this scent is the scent of hurtling down a steep slope on metal sticks, snow melting away with the heat of energy. A scent that would wrinkle noses in a proper, civilized garden full of flowers and fruit. There is no message of gentleness or grace in this smell. Even the basic scent of cleanliness would be hard to pick out of the scent of mud streaked shoes and melting snow. It's a perfume that would probably be hard to fall in love with.

But then again, he decides, it made sense.

She is not his mother, the woman he only wishes he knew. Nor is she one of the meddling, well meaning aunts, the women he really does love and appreciate, but wishes that he never ever knew. And never will she be one of those flower petal girls that talk endlessly about their hair and he-said she-said dramas and start limping at the first sign of darkness and doom and threats to the world as we know it.

Akiyama Ryou is pretty sure that most girls are supposed to smell like spring and summer, sugar and spice and everything nice, flowers in full bloom. But as he watches Makino Ruki speed down the white mountain, he catches the lingering scent of ice and flying over white snow.

And for some reason, it makes him happier than any flower ever could.

**Authoress babble. **

I always think of skiing when I think of Ruki. Don't ask why. It doesn't make sense. I also always have really bad endings to these things.

And for the record, I have at least five bath and body works flower-scented products in my bathroom. I'm a hypocrite.

A hypocrite that smells like flowers. XD

-liahime.

**p.s **sorry for late updates and bad quality, everyone. I'm taking my first AP class, and I'm a bit paranoid…

**p.p.s**. I'm getting a tiny bit sick of this, so here it is in advance: no, this was not plagiarized. If you have ever read something like this somewhere in Internet-land, then it was a coincidence. Thank you, have a nice day.


	13. proposal

liahime hasn't been posting, so here's a barrage of short one shots.

I'm trying to pull off a 30-fic theme thing. I'll probably fail, since I'm stuck on (oh, what a surprise!) theme number three.

Themes are from LJ, I was just way too busy to do all thirty. But what I do have will be submitted three to a chapter, because even I'm not so lazy I'll put one short blob per chapter. (Yet.)

* * *

**ryuki 100 fluff challenge.  
**_theme o13. proposal._

**one. the ring's on the other hand **

A ring on the left hand symbolizes belonging. A ring on the right symbolizes independence. He can't imagine Ruki without either one.

(Well, being without belonging, he can imagine. Makino Ruki can and will "belong" only to the people she wants to belong to, and he respects that.)

(But he'd rather not think about a world in which he doesn't belong to her and she doesn't belong to him.)

So, as absolutely ridiculous as he knows it is, Akiyama Ryou buys two rings.

**two. who's asking who? **

_Ruki,_ he asks, _in your opinion, what would be the perfect marriage proposal? _

Without missing a beat, she replies. _Skydiving over the Sahara Desert at midnight._

_And if someone couldn't afford that?_

_Then_, she says, not looking up from her book, _it would depend on who's asking._

**three:** **inappropriate timing **

He has the diamond. He has the perfect proposal line. And finally, _finally_, he's convinced himself that he has the courage to pop _the_ question.

But then, Ruki gets sick. And _she_ has a headache and a cough that won't go away. Her eyes are lined with red. Her head is barely visible beneath the mountain of quilts piled on top of her. She is Not in A Good Mood.

_You know_, he says, spouting Internet wisdom,_ the diamond is good for healing coughs and mucus. Do you want one?_

He mentally slaps his forehead. That was, without doubt, one of the stupidest proposal lines that ever left the lips of mortal man.

But she just coughs and rolls over in her bed, burying herself deeper into the thick cocoon of blankets and pillows, unaware of the fact that he had popped his first attempt at a proposal.

_No, I'd rather have some Tylenol instead._

Akiyama Ryou thinks that at this rate, he'll propose by the time he's ninety.

* * *

**Authoress note:**

The good thing about these are that I can write them really quickly.

The bad thing is that they're incredibly short.

I'll have something nice and long soon, Dolce. As soon as I get through my work and get a day off, I'll try to get something of decent length up.

Thank you reviewers! I'm sorry I'm only writing short fluff right now…

-liahime. 


	14. fairy godmother

Here's the challenge for myself: write each one in exactly ten minutes or less. And I'll just throw the LJ themes out the window. _Theme_: Jeri, and weddings.. Because one cannot have a wedding without a (badly written) Kato Jeri thrown in.

And there _is _ryuki, but you have to squint a little bit. Or a lot.

And I don't own anything.

_READY, SET, GO. _

_

* * *

_

**ryuki 100 fluff challenge.  
**_theme o14. fairy godmother._

**four. fairy godmother style. **

Jeri Kato does not sit around at home all day and plan planned first dates and accidentally-on-chance meetings. Or proposals. Or what they should wear to their high school reunions. She _has _planned weddings, but this was only because it is her job, this is what she's paid to do.

She is a busy girl. She has to go to work, she has to talk to caterers and florists all day, pay her bills and mail in rebates. She has a life, thank you. There isn't enough time in her day to sit around for hours, plotting and designing _proposals._ Jeri Kato is a romantic! She is a _wedding planner, _for crying out loud. But even _she _doesn't think that it should be that hard to plan your own Significant Romantic Event every once in a while.

What kind of suave hero is he, anyways? She grumbles as she pushes the papers to one side of her desk. The mighty and charming Akiyama Ryou, Digimon King, asking for help on one simple question. It's pathetic. It's a waste of her precious and limited time. And most of all, it's incredibly annoying, because now she'll be fixed on this problem for hours, just so that two romantically challenged people will be able to get over three words.

But she throws her hands up in the air and sighs.

The world would probably grind to a halt if it weren't for fairy godmothers.

**five. the cat's out of the bag. **

Apparently, her simple tutorial is turning into a full-fledged class. Ryou shows up with not one friend for support, but the entire gang. They crowd into her small apartment, sitting on cushions and raiding her fridge, acting exactly like they did in middle school. Jenrya sits on the floor. Takato brings in a bag of rolls, nearly spilling them in the shoving and jostling of five boys all trying not to be the first to get through the door and hurt their pride.

For a moment, it feels like they're all kids again, plotting out future pranks and copying homework. When she leaned next to Takato, eating hot rolls from a brown paper bag. The beeping of video games in the background. Petty arguments and meaningless bickering erupting quietly as Ryou tried to copy grammar homework. Fights over who would get the red controller, who gets to be Mario. Sort of like home, as stereotypical as it is.

The only element missing in this scene, she realizes, is Ruki, and this is for obvious reasons.

But this reminds her why they're all here, and she realizes that they've finally grown up now.

**six. camel through the eye of a needle. **

There are times when she would have rather not have gone to work when she was still young. She would have preferred to run outside and learn about the application of lip-gloss, rather than the fine art of sliding a glass down a bar counter without spilling a drop.

But there are also times when she is glad. Because dealing with drunks- the sad drunks, the angry drunks, the guys itching for fights- has denied Jeri from tutorials in make up. But it _has_, however, taught her how to get things done.

She has gotten brides to choose _one and only one _color scheme and to stick with it. She has gotten grooms to show up to tuxedo fittings on time and to give up pretzels and canned peanuts for appetizers. She has forced bridesmaids into matching, color coordinated dresses and crushed all complaints about _this makes me look like a nun _or _green is just not my color_ under her well worn heels. She has kicked drunks out onto the curb. She has pulled weddings up from the brink of in law wars and chaos.

Akiyama Ryou will learn how to get over his fear of proposing. There will be a summer wedding, because after all the work that she has done, Ruki will _have _to say yes, or else. And Jeri will _finally _have a good excuse to splurge on a new dress with matching shoes and to stop planning endless weddings for strangers who she doesn't care about and _finally_ get a chance to be a bridesmaid in the fairy tale, not the fairy godmother working her tail off in the background.

Even if she has to shove some insecure, frightened camel through the eye of a needle…

Things will get done.

**

* * *

**

**Thank you to my most gorgeous and faithful and wonderful reviewers! I appreciate you guys more than I am saying. Thanks for putting up with my slow updates and random tangents. **

** takari freek- **Thank you! Humor isn't my strong point, so I'm glad that you found it funny.  
**Dolce- **aww, thank you. I'm working on longer things too, they just take a long time because I never like the endings or forget what I had in mind half way through. Thank you for all that dedicated reviewing!  
**Katy007- **thank you very much! I'll try to work hard.  
**Kari Minamoto-** Thank you! I pulled the last chapter down a few times because of uploading errors. (Words got eaten, things like that…) Sorry about sending so many alerts.  
**AznxLoneWolf. **I do that too! I'm supposed to be doing my homework right now, but I got really bored of it. And I agree. Fluff is good for the soul.

-**liahime.**


	15. pear

I'm sort of starting to fall in love with writing with Jenrya. Even though I am writing out of character.

I think that I really started writing stuff in OOC mode a long, long time ago, so I should just stop making excuses and concentrate on writing faster.

Anyways.

We conclude this author babble with a warning. **_Badly written. Brain dead author attempting to write Jenrya for the second time ever._**

**

* * *

**  
**ryuki 100 fluff challenge.  
**_theme o15. pears._

Jenrya sits at the table in the early morning light, musing on the meaning of sliced pears, twirling a fork in his hand and absently counting the lines streaking across the old wood. It's an odd tableau- a stranger looking at it would think of heartbreak, of sad violin music swelling in melancholy strains in the background.

But of course, this is Jenrya, and he is much too sensible for the tears of a solitary violin and soap opera worthy sadness. He moves on in life. He puts a band-aid on a break to hold it together, shoulders one more heaviness, he walks on.

Ryou lies on Jenrya's floor, trying to find enough courage to say the hardest three words of his life. He stares at the ceiling, pulls his hair, grumbles and moans. This is a picture of suffering, of indecision.

"Jenrya," he asks, hiding his nervousness by burying his face into the carpet, "what if she says no?"

"That carpet's really dirty."

"Come on. Honestly."

There is a pause, and Jenrya sets his fork down on the table. "She won't."

"Are you sure?"

Another pause. "No. But it's likely."

Ryou rolls over, pushes himself up, smiling. "Where did you get the pears? You're breaking the laws of being a bachelor! Fresh fruit?"

"Ruki brought them this morning."

There is a third pause in the dialogue, this time as Ryou wrestles with his insecurity and fear. "Jenrya, you know Ruki really well, right? Are you _sure_?"

Jenrya looks up from the pears. "Ryou, just go and get it over with."

"But what if—"

"Go. I'm kicking you out of my house."

Ryou is already walking towards the door. "Thanks, Jenrya. I couldn't do this without you."

Jenrya stares at his pears and sighs.

* * *

If the person sitting at the table was not Jenrya, but some fictional character, his nature would be able to accept drama without rejecting it as an extravagance or something that is just simply stupid. He would believe in the meaning of pears, he would grab his coat, he would run and snatch Ruki away, riding off into the sunset. 

He would like to tell himself that he really has never liked Akiyama Ryou, that Ruki will get things straight eventually and come to him in the end. That Akiyama Ryou is just some shell of a hero with inexplicable hidden powers of darkness that corrupt generally sensible, cynical brains.

He would also like to tell himself that he isn't being unreasonable.

Akiyama Ryou is arrogant.

He's talented.

And he gets all the girls, unless some magical fairy godmother will intervene. But (_of course_, he thinks bitterly, stabbing a pear) Jeri has long allied herself with the romantic knight in shining armor. The prime minister that runs the empire lacks luster when placed next to the hero.

He knows that Ruki smiles more around Ryou, that she's is a different person. There is some hidden muscle in her that relaxes, some tension that somehow dissolves in the petty arguments that the two of them have made into an art form and perfected.

He knows that he has never really said anything. It's never been more than simple friendship between them, a bond formed while being the two sensible anchors to a group of dreamers thinking in idealism and rose tinted sunglasses.

And who is he to deny the universal law of first come, first serve?

But a corner of his personality has become corrupted with some messed up form of love- like a parasite, he thinks, picking up his fork. A virus without a cure. In reality, he doesn't watch soap operas, he didn't really get involved in the _he-loved-her-first _and the _he-loved-her-more_ arguments that erupted in school. And if it were anyone else in Ruki's place, he wouldn't really care.

There is a tiny bit of him that wants to believe in the meaning of the pears sitting on his kitchen table.

_Give me hope_.

There is a part of him that is ready to murder Ryou and recite Shakespeare while riding off on a white horse. Part of him that wants to be a hero, wants to take off flying into the sunset and end credits. But sensibility has merged with his blood after all these years as an anchor. Reality streaks through his veins. And in the end, far-flung hopes hidden in slices of fruit can't beat the cold hard evidence staring him straight in the face, no matter how much he wants them to.

He knows that Makino Ruki loves Akiyama Ryou.

Jenrya stabs the first slice of pear and begins to chew.

One by one, the pears disappear.

* * *

Ryou walks through the door and collapses, sprawling on the carpet once more. For a moment, the corrupted corner inside of Jenrya leaps. 

"Hey, do you still have any of those pears left?"

"You left an hour ago."

"What does that mean?"

"Did you propose?"

"Her car broke down. I drove her to her meeting." he says, muffling his frustration with a pillow. "I'm never going to be able to do this. Every time I think I can do it, something comes up."

Jenrya doesn't smile behind his fork, even though the edges of his mouth are pulling up. "I see."

"Jenrya, are you _sure_ there isn't any pear? I'm starving."

He bites into the last slice of pear. It is petty and childish, he knows, but this is one thing from Ruki that he has that Ryou doesn't have.

"No," Jenrya says, swallowing. "There is no pear."

* * *

Um. Yeah. 

Originally, this began with Jenrya eating all the pears, Ryou whining, and no plot at all. The handy dandy Yahoo! Search Engine helped me to insert some half-baked symbolism. If you can find it, you are a brilliant, brilliant reader.

I apologize for OOC-ness. And bad fluff. And the required squinting for ryuki. And for posting up my weird choppy-style experiment.

( The only redeeming quality this has is that it was posted more quickly than usual. )

**Thank you for your kind and encouraging words, reviewers!**

-**liahime.**


	16. four traditions

I was wikipedia-ing the series, and Alice might be dead. And besides that inconvenient fact, she was a minor character. But I _sort of_ like the idea of an Alice-Jenrya, and I didn't want to create an OC. So… I guess this is AU?

Oh yeah. Alice is OOC. Because I can't remember her character very well. And besides, if I bring a dead/disappeared character back for this, it's sort of late for OOC-minding. I know, I'm going off into OOC zone more and more.

I know. I'm getting back to pure ryuki after my _overdramatized!_Jenrya-writing craze. Starting now.

I promise.

**seven. something borrowed **

"Jenrya," the voice over the phone says, " can I borrow a tie?"

He wonders if this is how girls feel when their friends ask for shirts and shoes and whatever else they trade. Jenrya feels slightly ridiculous.

"Which one?"

"The blue one."

A tie- and the blue tie, at that. It must be The Day, then.

"You're proposing? No backing out?"

A gulp comes through the connection. "Yeah. I think so."

Jenrya pushes aside all thoughts of spilling coffee on every tie he owns and sighs. It is inevitable, and he can't put it off forever. The Day, like all of the other Days in the past, will come to pass.

"Yeah. Come over."

**eight. something old. **

For some odd reason, he is reminded of the very first Day. Nothing has really changed since then. The Day has always involved the phone ringing every minute, a frantic fairy godmother with a ribbon in her brown hair reminding Ryou not to wear that ugly yellow tie and to _please_ stay away from those old sneakers. Ryou, venting out his doubts by changing ties a hundred and one times, interrupted only by frequent bursts of "what if she says no?" and moments of completely irrational despair. There are few areas in Akiyama Ryou's life that aren't approached with at least a degree of arrogance, and Makino Ruki is one of them. He paces the room like an actor with stage fright, changing ties and peering into the tiny bathroom mirror.

And of course, Jenrya plays a part in this as well, sitting on the floor and reading his book, telling Ryou to calm down, don't worry, stop being so stupid, of course she'll say yes, saying soothing lies that he doesn't really believe in over and over again.

"What if she says no?"

"She might not."

The phone rings for the umpteenth "Jeri, he's wearing my blue tie, not the yellow plaid tie."

"He has plaid ties?" She half groans, half screeches into the phone. "Boys have no taste at all! I'm sending Alice over. Don't leave until she gets there."

Jenrya doubts that Alice will care, let alone offer any wise fashion advice on ties, but he tells Jeri that the door is open, don't freak out, Ryou is a big boy now.

She laughs. "I know. It's just that it's _The _Day, you know? It's the last one ever. After this, we're never going to do this anymore. It's probably a good thing, right? No more running around at the last minute."

He looks at Ryou, who is standing on his head, scattering a pile of neatly folded socks.

"Yeah."

"Are you going to miss this, Jenrya? I mean, you probably won't, but still. We've been doing this since like what, freshman year? The very first date."

Ryou, shouting as he spills his dad's cologne onto the bathroom floor. Playing a video game and answering the phone as Jeri asks about the state of Ryou's shoelaces. The only difference in their "pre-Significant-Romantic-Event-planned-by-the-amazing-Jeri" ritual is that this time, if Ruki says yes, it's forever. It's not just a first date or a school dance anymore. This is life, coming up and hitting them in the face. There really is no turning back after this. No more second chances.

"Yeah," he says. "I'm going to miss it."

**nine. something blue.**

"Are you _positive_?"

"Yes," Jenrya says, voice tinged with impatience, "I am positive that the odds are in your favor."

Ryou puts his hand on the doorknob, hesitant.

"Don't come back until you get it over with, Ryou."

"What if she says no?"

His first instinct is to repeat the same words that he's been repeating over and over, since the first Day, when Ryou was simply heading to the movies, and one of the toughest decisions he had was over the type of candy he'd be buying at the counter.

But even Ryou, Jenrya decides, deserves the truth every once in a while.

"You'll come home and cry, and then you'll play videogames and watch my T.V. for a few days. And after that, you'll just move on in your life, like everyone else."

Ryou looks unconvinced.

"Trust me. You can't just sit at home- especially in _my _house- forever with a broken heart."

"Why not?"

"Bills. Taxes. Life." He opens the door and pushes him into the hall. "Bye, Ryou."

"If she says yes," Ryou says, the first time he's dared to mention this possibility, "then you're the best man at my wedding, Jenrya."

The slam of the door hides the sigh.

**ten. something new.**

Alice arrives a few minutes after Ryou leaves, carrying a paper grocery bag filled with ties and fruit, her feet pinched into fashionable black shoes with heels far too high. She wobbles at the door, leaning on the wall.

"He's gone," Jenrya says when he sees her, feeling half bitter, half like a little kid jealous of all the attention that a sibling is getting. He's being completely unreasonable and is blowing things out of proportion. He knows this.

At the moment though, he doesn't care very much.

"I know," she says, handing him the ties. "I passed him on my way here. You did a good job."

Jenrya doesn't reply.

"Anyways," she says, brushing past him as if returning to her own home, "my feet are killing me because I forgot to get money for the bus. I'm going to stop by here for a little bit, okay?"

She looks over her shoulder as she pulls off her impractical black shoes. "That is, if you're not going to wallow in your misery."

"I'm not wallowing!"

It bursts out of him before he can rationalize, before he can remember that he's already moved on in his life.

"OK," she says, unruffled. "Do you have tea?" She brushes past him, already rummaging through his cabinets, putting containers on the floor as she pulls them out one by one. She reaches up, standing on her toes to reach the box of teabags hidden on the top shelf. Shaking the dust off of the box, she frowns. "Do you ever drink this stuff? It's covered with dust, which is really disgusting, when you think about it."

"No, my sister brought it over once. It's really only flavored hot water, when you think about it." He's being unusually harsh, he knows, but he doesn't care. At the moment, he feels like blowing up the world and repenting later, rather than staying as a guy in his apartment, helping to break his own stupid heart. Having guests and obligations isn't helping. It seems as if she's trying to stir him up deliberately, neatly going down the list of the petty things that annoy him and checking them off one by one. As if she's trying to blow him up on _purpose. _She sets a cup down in front of him with an annoyingly loud _clack_, dragging the porcelain across the wood.

Where, he wonders, is _his_ fairy godmother? Or at least some benevolent great aunt, twice removed?

Alice stares at him, refusing to let him stew in the peace of solitude. Her eyes are relentless, looking at him over her cup. They go beyond polite eye contact to something harsher, something ruthlessly staring into him and shifting through the secrets he's filed carefully away.

Something inside of him pokes at him. _Ruki never did that,_ it says, _She let you be in peace. Tell this girl to go away._

She sips her tea, resumes the staring. "Your tea is getting cold, Jenrya."

_Just tell her to go away and leave you alone so you can be miserable for a while and then get over it, okay? If you're alone, you can stare at the ceiling and listen to music, and _then _you can move on. Once you've finished grieving. _

_Again, _adds the gray eyes staring at him across a mug. _Again._

_Just tell her to go away. _

He opens his mouth, and she speaks for him. "I'm annoying you, I'm sure."

He struggles with manners and honesty, but in the end, he's too tired, and his nature wins over learned habits. "Yeah. You are."

"Good," she says, pouring herself another cup. "Then you'll get over yourself. Honestly," she sighs, "I think that you should just stop lying. You're not cut out for the 'lonely high prince' type, you know."

"What?!" _Where,_ that thing inside of him pokes him in the ribs once more, _is the fairy godmother for you now? You should have thrown her out while she was still at the door. _"Lonely high prince?"

"Well, look at you. Sending Ryou off like you don't care while you look like you just walked out of some badly written tearjerker fanfic. You're just not cut out to be a noble liar, so don't try, okay? It's pathetic."

"Trust me," he says, staring into the teacup, away from the ruthless stare, "I'm a pretty good liar."

"No," she retorts, "you're not. You're probably one of the worst ever. You can't convince yourself, so how can you expect to fool anyone else?'

He sighs. Her stare, if it's even at all possible, intensifies, pinning him like a bug under a microscope, prodding him to tell the truth. He hasn't seen this side of her in a long time- the last time he saw this stare was when she was a little girl walking in the fog, holding life and death in pale hands. She's steel buried under lace and curls, and her eyes aren't moving from his. This is no fairy godmother in tulle and hair ribbons. She's closer to a witch, he thinks, still a bit annoyed, her cauldron of tea bubbling on the stove and all.

And though he has no idea why, a tiny bit of him _wants_ to tell her.

He picks up his tea. "Did I make the right choice?"

She drinks the last sips of her tea slowly, waiting before she answers.

"There wasn't a right choice to make," she finally says, and her stare softens a tiny bit around the corners, "you just made the one that you thought was best."

There is a moment of silence.

"Anyways, stop whining and get over yourself."

And maybe, he thinks then, that having a witch in place of a fairy godmother isn't too bad.

* * *

there's a reference to myself here, in the last part.

points to whoever catches it.

sorry for the deleting/reloading. ate a big chunk of this three times. Sorry!

- getting back to the point now liahime.


	17. question and answer

**warning warning warning. run away while you can.**

**apologies in advance for any monsters eating things up. **

* * *

**ryuki 100 fluff challenge.  
**_theme o17. question and answer._

**eleven. it's not a diamond. **

Once upon a time, there was a beautiful princess, and after trials and tribulations, she eventually found her prince, and they rode off happily into the sunset, the hero and the high priestess and the knights and all the happy subjects waving as their pumpkin carriage disappeared into the horizon. Rings glitter in the setting sun, clear diamonds reflecting twilight.

And then, when it is all over, and the cake was eaten and the confetti swept up, the hero and the high priestess leave together, talking both optimistically- _they're a cute couple, don't you think? Maybe we could be one too, eh pumpkin?_—and pessimistically- _don't even _dream_ about me, you perverted mass of hormones._

(In a way, balance.)

They still fight. They've always fought- petty rumblings, and occasionally huge earthquakes of tension and stress and hurt. They've separated, splitting apart. And they've always come back together, in the end, even though she always grumbles, carefully red eyes quickly fading to their natural, that it will never work out, that she's a stupid idiot for trying this _again,_ and he always smiles that infuriating smile, and pretends that he wasn't as scared as he actually was.

("I hate you," is the first thing she always says when somehow they come back together, despite all rational reasoning and common sense.)

("That's okay," he replies. "You're back. That's what really matters")

She doesn't know if this relationship going to be forever, and if either of them will ever be able to love each other until the end of time- her mother, after all, had thought that what _she _had had was going to be forever, and they both know how long that lasted. There are moments when she isn't even sure if she _wants _anything even close to eternity with him. There are times when she slams her door and throws books at his head, dumps coffee on his lap.

What they have is probably not a diamond. And if it is, it's a cracked diamond, full of flaws and streaks of gray. It's not a fairytale ending, it's not an epic romance, it isn't even a cute reality to tuck into a scrapbook. It's not eternity wrapped up in a glittering stone.

It's coffee stained and patched. It has skid marks and ripped pages and a million other flaws. It's not the romance that you'd write a fairytale about, put into a ring.

But it's lasting so far.

And that's all that really matters.

**twelve. it's not skydiving over the Sahara. **

She's a practical person, she really is.

But when she was young, she admits that she dreamed of proposals every once in a while. She had heard all of her mother's glamorous stories told over fashionable tea tables- hot air balloon rides, sunrises on snowy mountaintops, violins and cherry blossoms and glitter. (She never heard about how her father proposed, but she assumed that it was the most exciting and spectacular of them all.) It's not as if she _expects _something like this: Ruki is too practical to keep her head stuck in the clouds. But she dreamed a little bit when she was young, and she wouldn't mind too much if any of those incredibly ridiculous daydreams she had as a little girl ever came true.

(She had been particularly fond of one scene she imagined as a little girl- falling down from the stars in an infinitely black sky over a stretch of white sand, time stopping just for that one special moment in her lifetime.)

When it happens, it's not exactly skydiving over the Sahara at midnight.

Her foot, she realizes later, had somehow been caught in a flowerpot. The phone had been ringing in the background. The old woman who runs the ramen stand down the street was shouting at the stray dogs. The world kept moving without them.

But when he goes down on one knee on her tiny balcony, hands shaking, she finds that it is infinitely better than anything she could have imagined.

**thirteen. it's not life or death. **

It's really just a question.

She can say no and still survive. The world won't crumble. Ryou would definitely sulk, he might injure himself, and she might look back on her answer a few years later and still hurt a bit. But it's not like anyone will _die_. She's still a free person. She can say yes if she wants to, and she can say no.

She knows this, but with all the glamour and romantic fluff that Jeri plans for a living, sometimes she wonders if this moment is a little bit more important than a few words and an answer. And her own stupid excuse for a heart isn't helping as it speeds up to thump at a million miles a minute. Ryou was a bad influence, she thinks, listening to her heart pump at a million beats a second. Even her internal organs were becoming melodramatic.

It's a question, with a yes or no answer. Not life or death. No reason to suddenly agonize and start to panic and hold onto the thin railing as if the world was falling apart.

So she opens her mouth. And she answers.

**fourteen. it's _now_. **

In the end, you can pay attention to all the good things, all the bad things, and all the ugly things that led up to this moment.

But this is now, and all the rest is meant for the people watching, for the people who are listening, for the people who aren't part of the moment. In the end, the play is for the actors, and not the audience. The audience will appreciate the beauty. They will sit on the edge of the seat, they will gasp, they will applaud the story playing out on stage and then will ultimately leave as the curtain closes and the lights come on, going back to their ordinary lives.

The actors live it.

"Will you marry me?"

"Yes."

There are a lot of things that led up to this moment. And there are a lot of reactions. You can talk about the flowers and the ring and the people who gave up part of their lives for this to happen. The romantic day dreams and having a bare foot caught in a flowerpot of damp dirt when it actually happens. Laughing. Crying. Nearly falling off the tiny cramped balcony in shock when she says yes.

The moments that came before, the moments that come after. They're all there, they're all remembered.

But this is all that really matters.

* * *

ok, I'm not all that satisfied with this. I can always write another one though. XD 

but! I have actually written _three _(yes! three!) short tiny not very good drabbles out on _paper_ with a _pen_, which means I will get something done _for sure_ in the next few days.

(oh yeah. reference was to "badly written fanfic." although "witch" might work too, haha.)

(because that is me all over.)

-liahime.


	18. butterfly kiss

**Beware: experimenting and worn out author. Beware! Run while you still can.**

**

* * *

**

**ryuki 100 fluff challenge.  
**_theme 18. butterfly kiss_

It was just one of those days – no homework, work was slow, the sun was shining. The world wasn't on the brink of destruction. The greatest concerns that they had at the moment were whether Akiyama Ryou would catch the next grape and if they would make it to Jenrya's house before all the cookies were eaten.

Akiyama Ryou receives no warning.

There are no startled fawn eyes when _it _happens. No sudden realization or sultry hints. No swelling violins. No cherry blossoms or anything. Just sour grapes and a short cut across the green park. There was nothing special, no warning signs, no signals telling him to take Ruki's hand and sprint away at the speed of light, away from disaster. It was just two part-time supermarket employees walking to a friend's house after their summer jobs were over. That was it. Nothing more.

(_The day started out fine, he grumbles to Takato over the unsympathetic beeping of video games. It was a _normal_ day.)_

She walks with her face towards the sun, soaking in as much heat as possible after a shift of cold, artificial air and fluorescent light, and he walks next to her. They've gone through this a thousand billion times before. There are no sweet nothings. No deep themes. And because Ruki had had to deal with too-many-jerks-named-Akiyama-Ryou-who-kept-accidentally-not-on-purpose-knocking-over-the-giant-tuna-can-displays, there aren't even _n_i_cknames_ passing between them! No "pumpkin" or "wild cat' or any of the names that Ruki secretly loves. Shouldn't he have gotten good karma points or something like that?

(_Takato sighs, and begins to regret taking the role of Sympathetic Friend when all he wanted to do was play Ultra Sidewalk Fighter 4. _Go on_, he sighs.)_

He throws one of the sour grapes in the air, opening his mouth wide as it arcs up. He looks over at Ruki, and with all of the amazing charm that makes up Akiyama Ryou, winks.

(_And then the end comes creeping up on him._)

For a moment, he catches sight of the little girl that Ruki must have been once upon a time. She's almost laughing as a butterfly tickles her nose with its petal thin wings (_who knew that she was ticklish? And why wasn't _he_ informed?_) and in place of those famous violet icebergs that have destroyed ships and egos, there's sunlight and a reflection of sky. The breeze blows through her hair. The sun shines a bit brighter. She glows.

(_He has never fainted before, but his hormones have._)

Ruki, the sky, and an orange butterfly. It's a moment so out of place with the rest of the cynical world that she lives in that he wonders if he's ever really known her at all. It's a moment straight out of a shoujo manga, drizzled with sugar and marshmallows and an orchard's worth of flower petals.

And then, just as quickly as it began, the butterfly flies away, shooting the world back to the present, a butterfly smile still awkwardly lingering on her face, as if it isn't sure if it continue to stay The grape falls on Akiyama Ryou's forehead, splattering messily, adding insult to the sour sting of being upstaged by a common _Danaus plexippus, _the neighborhood monarch butterfly.

_(Only _I _am supposed to make Ruki laugh! Only me!)_

Ruki looks at him, and grumbles. "It's just a bug. Don't go into super jealous mode, idiot. It's not like I belong to you."

_(The world explodes. Ryou throws his controller at Ultra Sidewalk Fighter 4. The screen goes black._)

She walks ahead of him, muttering under her breath about over possessive little boys that think too highly of themselves. Akiyama Ryou is left behind in the wake of her annoyance, alone. Cue the personal rain cloud and gloomy shadows. His life, he has decided, has been shattered beyond repair.

(_At the moment, Akiyama Ryou hates butterflies with a passion._)

_(Takato has decided never to be the Sympathetic Friend again._)

* * *

And now I'm experimenting with many different things. It didn't work out. (Understatement of the century.) Thanks for putting up with my attempt on overdramatized Ryou through the whole thing... and if Ryou was really whiny and melodramatic, he would be like this. Right?

( No. He would not be this OOC and pathetic. )

But oh well.

**I'm doing really quick reader replies for last chapter since it's been forever since I've written these out, and beloved reviewers need more appreciation and love. **

**Dolce- **that review really brought a smile to my face! Your heartwarming reviews always make me happy when I read them. Thank you!  
**katy007- **Thank you! I'm glad you liked the last chapter!  
**AznxLoneWolf- **Thank you! I'm glad you like drabbles. Long stories are getting hard now that I don't have much free time.  
**anon: **Thank you! Enthusiastic response always makes me happy and fuzzy feeling.  
**takari freek- **I'm glad that it wasn't horrible! Thank you very much!  
**catseyebow- **thank you very much for taking the time to review! I loved reading all of your reviews.  
**Starshone- **Your review made my eyes pop! It was so long! And fuzzy-warm-feeling producing! And it made me get down to the computer and type things up after a long period of being lazy. Thank you very much for your kind review!

-liahime.


	19. lily of the valley

_in which liahime has a headache and a papercut. And does not own many things, including a brain or the ability to write._

blowing dust off old drabbles. I need a deadline extension for this 100 fics by Christmas idea. It was much, much harder than I thought it was.

(The lily of the valley symbolizes a return to happiness.)

**

* * *

**

**ryuki 100 fluff challenge.  
**_theme 19. _lily of the valley

You're _still_ not sure if you love him or not.

Hate has always been much easier. With hate, you _know_. You're certain. There are no strings attached. You hated him, and that was that. Hate is easy, hate is clean. You can put it into a box and leave it there without worrying about it, and come back to exactly the same thing after years and years. It was perfectly simple; neat and tidy.

And tidiness, it is said, is next to godliness.

But love comes with frayed strings and knotted webs. There are sudden jealousies that you can't quite explain. And confusion, and doubt, and wavering decisions, and so much uncertainty that sometimes you want to just scrap it all and go back to hate, clean and simple. You're not used to having such an unstable variable play such a huge part in your life- everything used to be dependable.. A little solemn, maybe, but hate was always as strong and steady as stone, unchanging beneath your feet. Love, on the other hand, is like water- it can't even decide on what form it's going to take. It flips and flops and splashes everywhere, creating puddles and eroding walls that were perfectly fine before lovewas reintroduced into your life. It's sloppy and loud and annoying, and you have no idea why you're even staying with it- no one in their right mind would. You _had _your happy ever after before this mess started- things were neatly tucked in, all the loose ends were cut off and tied down, and everything was fine, just fine. Love just complicated things, leaving chaos in its wake.

Sometimes, you wake up in the middle of the quiet, questioning night, and wonder if your messy, sloppy, loud and annoying life right now is simply a dream, and that you really haven't woken up at all; that your steady life is waiting for you on the edge of morning. That you only _dreamt_ that you fell asleep for a few moments in the back of Ryou's old car, surrounded by wobbling tanks full of rescued goldfish and a wholesale bag of fish food, listening to him sing along with the midnight radio. It is a scenario so impossible and crazy that it not only out of the box, but it smashes the box to pieces and then sprints away laughing, leaving you behind in shock and disbelief. You're sitting in a car filled with sloshing fish tanks, your shoes are soaked, and Ryou is managing to twist the song's chorus into an opera, complete with trills and flourishes. And the oddest of all: you were laughing with him. It is a scene straight from a dream, so different from the life you were living three years ago that it has to be impossible.

Three years ago, if someone told you that you'd be here, in the back of a car with a goldfish bowl on your lap, and that you'd be happy, you would have called that person a lying lunatic. You would have laughed and brushed it off as a foolish _what-if, _an impossibility. It would never have happened in a happily ever after- there are too many loose ends, unanswered questions, too much uncertainty- something as crazy as this would never have happened in your old,steady life.

But it _is_ real, and there are times when everything else seems like a faded gray dream that was rolled up and packed away when you returned to the land of the living that you came from a long, long time ago. Your shoes are wet, your feet are cold, and you have no idea where life will take you next. But on the other hand, you're here, you're laughing, and for some reason, with the wind blowing in your face and offkey singing in your ear, you feel more alive now than you have in a long, long time.

It isn't a happily ever after that you have right now.

It's a once upon a time, and you find that somehow, as you entered into the story for the second time, you fell a little bit into love.

* * *

_hooray, that was horrible. I do not know why they are in a car with goldfish. I really don't. _

_Perhaps you could tell me?_

_more coming eventually. hopefully, it will be better._

_-liahime_


	20. end of the line

Formerly an attempt at a 100 sentence story, but something happened to it along the way. Themes, as always, are stolen from somewhere.

_In which liahime attempts to recreate the mourning process, kills people off _again, _fails miserably, and dredges up some stupid memories. _

_Also, this is super-OOC again, but you all probably knew this already. I think I don't even have to write that on top of here anymore. _

* * *

**ryuki 100 fluff challenge.  
**_theme o1. end of the line._

**1. Motion **

For some reason, all she can think about is the difference of how he walked then, and how he walks now- it is as if this strange disease has changed him so much that even the rhythm of his steps are broken.

**2. Cool **

He has charmed every single nurse in the ward and has stolen all of their hearts without lifting a finger; the irony now is that he cannot save hers.

Or his.

**3. Young **

_You are too young to die,_ she tells him, _and much too stupid to live_, and she wonders if youth or stupidity will win this time.

**4. Last **

_Does being handsome count for anything?_ he asks her, grinning weakly before she shoots him down with a glare.

He has always insisted on getting the last word.

**5. Wrong **

She thinks that there is something completely messed up with Life and Fate and Destiny- they have come this far, and finally, when they began to see their happily ever after on the horizon, life drops yet another adventure on them.

**6. Gentle **

One day, he bans her from his room because her bedside manner reminds him how close he is to death. She explodes at her fiancée and tells him from over the bewildered doctor's shoulders that he is stupid and sick and annoying, and that she's going to be in the room if she wants to, and shut up and stop looking at me that, Akiyama!

_There,_ he tells her, _that's much better._

**7. One **

_I'm going to take you to Venice, one day,_ he says to her when they are seventeen and healthy, _and make you go to all of those tourist things and ride gondolas and eat ice cream, and then I'll tell you something, okay?_

_An undying promise of love?_ She rolls her eyes. _Very cliché, Ryou. _

_Still, _he says, thoughtfully, _it was a pretty good idea, don't you think?_

**8. Thousand **

When he leaves, there are a million things that she wants to say to him that she thought of once it was too late, and she realizes, bitterly, that once again he has gotten the last word.

**9. King **

When she first sees him, it doesn't look as if he is sleeping- she remembers watching him nap in countless classes, head sprawled to one side, trying to roll over in his chair, mumbling some strange phrase underneath his breath: his stillness makes it obvious that whatever this is, it isn't sleep.

**10. Learn **

She learns the legal language quickly, and carries out her responsibilities efficiently and well until she reaches the last part of the will.

Then, she finds it so hard not to cry that she passes it on to Ryou's lawyer as she retreats into stone eyed silence.

**11. Blur **

All the tiny details go by quickly- hotel reservations, phone calls, stamping envelopes, and she regrets this- the mundane details are the easy part. Grieving is hard.

**12. Wait. **

They travel, and it seems as if _everyone _knew him- a flight attendant he once dated, ticket collector he played soccer with; they leave mourning in their wake as they fly.

**13. Change **

Over old stories on the plane ride, Jeri's eyes suddenly half-crinkle into a smile before she pulls them down guiltily.

**14. Command **

They encounter yet another barrier in Ryou's messy, spur-of-the-last-moment plan, but Takato commandeers a taxi with rough tourist Italian straight from the guidebook and gets everyone there in one piece.

**15. Hold **

The entire funeral party will act as the pallbearers: Ryou wouldn't have had it any other way.

**16. Need **

They slip away during the early reception, one by one, until they all find themselves in a loose huddle in the hotel's coat closet.

**17. Vision **

_It's beautiful,_ they whisper as the piano begins to play and seven sleek boats float down the gray canal, and Ruki wants to walk over there and slap them. _No, you idiots, it's not beautiful, he's dead._

**18. Attention **

There is a mass of European blacks and grays, a flurry of cold Asian whites, all cooing and clicking their tongues like a flock of sympathetic birds, milling around the pigeons in the cobblestone square and drowning a red spark of hair in their well meaning attention.

**19. Soul **

Part of Ruki is in the coffin; although she will never admit it, a tiny piece of her heart has ran off with a chunk of her soul.

**20. Picture **

A gondola floats down a canal, the sleek black body floating down the gray waters like a dragon entering Venice. It is a picture perfect for a postcard, she thinks wryly, just as everything else he did was- something bright, something that charmed the world into a moment of storybooks, no matter what the circumstances were.

**21. Fool **

It is only when she realizes that they are passing under a flashbulb frenzy of tourists walking over the famous bridges of Venice that she realizes that this too has been part of his crazy, stupid plan all along.

(In the gondola, she finds, there is a carton of Italian ice cream.)

**22. Mad **

She hates him for dying, she hates him for trying to pull off one more plan even when he's dead, she hates him for making this so hard, and just to spite him, the ice cream goes into the murky canal with a splash.

**23. Child **

She hears a wisp of children running and shouting and laughing, a little girl is pulled through an alley by a boy, and just before their mother hastily pulls them away, a bit of her wants them to come back, come back.

**24. Now **

Her arms are filled with flowers, not because Ryou liked these particularly, but because he would have enjoyed the effect and the symbolism in them, detail-obsessed idiot that he was. They are _somei yoshino_, early cherry blossoms. The flowers are nearly pure white, tinged with the palest pink. Buds that bloom early and fall early as well, creating a snowstorm in spring, causing heads to turn.

(_Attention hungry,_ she would have grumbled at him if he was still there to grumble at.)

**25. Shadow **

The reason Jenrya is rowing the last gondola is really because he is the only one Ruki trusted to not cry.

**26. Goodbye **

The last thing to go into the canals of Venice is a ring. It settles, and then is swallowed by a fish, which swims far, far away into the foggy Atlantic.

**27. Hide **

They reach a tiny island, where his mother's father was buried, and his mother after that, and now, Ryou, lowered into the soil that smells like thick flowers and salty tears.

**28. Fortune **

It turns out he was actually quite well off, despite never having the proper change for bus fare or enough food in his kitchen, but Ruki does not want his money. _Give it to charity, _she says, before she turns away, _give it to some orphanage, give it to some soup kitchen, just don't give it to me._

**29. Safe **

As long as she does not open her eyes, life will not continue.

**30. Ghost **

They haven't left yet, none of them have the strength to organize and motivate quite yet. So they stay in the crumbling hotel by the water, wandering about from lobby to bedroom to dining room, until Ruki finds a diamond ring in the belly of the fish she ordered.

She has always suspected him of being super-possessive; here is the proof.

**31. Book **

He has left her love letters, and she wonders if he had spent the energy he put into those on healing instead, then maybe things would happen differently. She reads all of them three times, and then she watches as they slowly sink into the teeth of a hungry paper shredder.

She didn't need letters to know.

**32. Eye **

When a charming man from Florence offers to buy her a coffee, drapes a charming arm around her shoulder, and lets his dark charming eyes linger flirtatiously on hers, she twists the offending limb so quickly and so painfully that even she is surprised.

They have to talk to the police (Takato pulls out his guidebook once more) after this, but the message is clear: this girl isn't on the market.

**33. Never **

There are many unreasonable things that could have happened, that might happened: she might have given in to her mother's badgering every once in a while, just to make her happy. She might have learned how to bake a cake, she might have had kids, she might have married someone and lived happily ever after.

**34. Sing **

She wakes up one day, and this is _Venice,_ there is a man playing the guitar in the early morning sunlight, the sky is singing with blue, a gondola filled with tomatoes is sweeping past in waves of smooth crescents, it is too early for tourists to be out and about. There is fresh bread across the canal, fresh flowers by her bed, and everything is happy and bright and clean and alive.

She hates herself all day.

**35. Amputation **

Sometimes it feels like he is still there, and she turns around to look at him, or to ask him to hold something, but then suddenly, he disappears again, fading back to the world of the dead.

**36. Stop **

Everyone thought it would be Ryou, even Ruki herself.

So she is oddly surprised when finally, she realizes, that's not how it's going to be.

**37. Time **

They go home, they move on, she pays bills and goes back to work and stops wearing black, because if she was mourning that long, that would mean she truly loved him, which would mean that she really missed him, which would mean that she would hurt more than she could tell.

**38. Wash **

His father- _his own father,_ a part of her would have remarked indignantly, if she wasn't over this- hints at a nice boy that who she might like. But she _is _over this, and she has to prove it to everyone because they _just won't believe her_, so she actually goes out on a date with a bland, boring boy who she dumps spaghetti on, and she comes home feeling even more bitter and stupid than ever.

**39. Torn **

"Ruki, it's been years," Jeri pleads, "please just decide if you're going to die with him or if you're going to live with the rest of us."

**40. History **

They are fifteen. He leans over, kisses her on the cheek.

"What did you just do?!" She is reeling between emotions, but at the moment, the urge to wipe that smirk off of his face is winning.

"Did you want one on the lips instead?"

**41. Power **

She has been consumed by her work, she is the best lawyer there is in Tokyo, maybe even Japan. Her eyes are iron cold, her tongue is ice sharp, and she has returned to who she was before everything happened and she was able to hurt.

If she does not feel, then it is better than crying.

**42. Bother **

She has given herself up, she thinks, and if this isn't an undying promise of true love, Ryou, then she doesn't know what that is anymore.

**43. God **

She was the one who should have been immune to him, they think- after all, she is the one who had stuffed her ears with wax and apathy, closed up her eyes with disdain. But really, she thinks, she was looped into it first, hearing the Orpheus song that charmed the beasts, coaxed the dark trees to unfurl leaves, and changed the flow of choked up rivers deep within her veins, as if it was there all along.

And now that he isn't there anymore, everything has frozen up. It's winter again.

**44. Wall **

"What are you," some tactless coworker grumbles at her when she rejects an invitation to go to a bar after work, "a nun or a widow? Makino, stop grieving and just get over yourself."

"There is nothing to get over," she says, and disappears into her gray cubicle.

**45. Naked **

There is something missing in the group: not in sound, certainly, not so much in the looks, but in their gravity. She's still there, she's always been quiet, but now it seems as if it is a corpse, not a person, walking at the very end of their crowd.

**46. Drive **

Jenrya gives her a ride to work one day when her car breaks down, and sort-of-on-purpose ensnarls his car in thick downtown traffic, filling the car with tension as thick as concrete as he tries to make eye contact and she tries to look everywhere but at him.

"Look, Ruki. I know you think you loved him," he finally begins, "but I don't think that you really did. You're being selfish, you know that? It sounds stupid and cliché, but maybe Ryou wanted you to be happy. Maybe you're just being miserable and bitter because you're selfish."

**47. Harm **

She is surprised at his harshness, but not so surprised that she cannot open the passenger side door and walk out into the stalled traffic, weaving her way out onto the sidewalk, back stiff and cold.

**48. Precious **

For two days, she leaves the lights off and takes the battery out of her cell phone; she falls into grieving, pure and full and angry, and she cries for what seems like is forever.

**49. Hunger **

I want to live again, she suddenly realizes on the third day. I want to live.

**50. Believe **

She puts her ring back on, but it is on her right hand now.

She's standing up again. Slowly. But she is standing up.

**51. Closure.**

Ryou is dead. She knows this now. But she isn't, and she has no right to say that she loved him and to be so selfish that she would die with him.

She calls Jenrya the next morning to apologize.

* * *

I know, it's terrible.

I can't write these killing-people-off things, but I tried again anyways.


	21. unit

**AN OWNER'S GUIDE TO THE CARE AND KEEPING OF AKIYAMA RYOU UNIT, TM. **

**A COMPREHENSIVE MANUAL WRITTEN BY LIAHIME. **

_  
ryuki 100 fluff challenge.  
__theme 21._ unit.  
**  
**Congratulations! You have just purchased an AKIYAMA RYOU unit from the C CORPORATION. But, dear customer, you must be wondering to yourself- _how _will you be able to maintain and love your AKIYAMA RYOU? Do not fear! This fully comprehensive manual will show you the way! 

**A. PRODUCT INFORMATION. **

Name: AKIYAMA RYOU 

Place of Manufacture: CLASSIFIED.  
Type: ARROGANT HERO, EASILY INFLATABLE.

When AKIYAMA RYOU unit arrives, do not attempt to unpack unless a MAKINO RUKI unit is available. AKIYAMA RYOU unit will sulk for a few hours and then come out of its own will in CHEERFUL mode.

**B. BASIC NEEDS. **

Your AKIYAMA RYOU requires three things: FOOD, WATER, and ATTENTION. AKIYAMA RYOU is generally self sufficient, and will be able to feed and water itself, though it may fall into occasional periods of melancholy or grumpiness due to a lack of SODA and/or FRESH FRUITS. Do not be alarmed! This problem is quickly solved by introducing Coca Cola and apples into AKIYAMA RYOU's daily diet. (However, we strongly recommend that pumpkins not be given before a MAKINO RUKI is purchased; for more information, see D: ADDITIONAL PURCHASES.) 

Your AKIYAMA RYOU is generally self sufficient and cheerful, and is one of the more independent items available for purchase. However, without proper attention, he may become dysfunctional and cranky, and may even reach the point of running off to another dimension in search of an adventure. If your AKIYAMA RYOU runs away, do not despair! (Though you may cry a few bitter tears.) AKIYAMA RYOU is equipped with the Bishounen's Luck ability, which will allow him to come home safely in a few years, most likely with either a) money, b) a girl, or c) half of a kingdom. To prevent this temporary loss, make sure that AKIYAMA RYOU is praised at least twice daily and given a small number of competitions, preferably card tournaments, to win monthly. AKIYAMA RYOU functions best when it feels it is loved, needed, and/or adored. Although your AKIYAMA RYOU may complain about FANGIRLS, especially if they are set at full volume and hysterics, he requires a minimum of three in order to function properly unless a MAKINO RUKI or CYBERDRAMON is purchased and introduced to his environment. Do not worry about a larger than normal amount of hot air in your unit- this is normal.

The AKIYAMA RYOU unit requires basic cleaning. He is programmed in Personal Hygiene, but will frequently leave small disasters in his wake, especially when devoted to completing a difficult task. He requires several tubes of toothpaste weekly, but it is well worth it when you bask in his sparkling white smile. If CYBERDRAMON accessory is added to your unit, then a personal construction crew may be necessary. If FANGIRL accessory is added, then C Corporation is not responsible for any damage to eardrums or mental illnesses that may occur.

**In Summary**: You may forget to feed your AKIYAMA RYOU, but make sure his head is filled with a good amount of hot and happy air. You may check the level of hot air in your AKIYAMA RYOU at any C CORPORATION store near you.

**C. ENVIRONMENT AND USES. **

AKIYAMA RYOU is a social unit. AKIYAMA RYOU will generally laze about the house unless given a purpose; when motivated, AKIYAMA RYOU will become very energetic and charming. To allow your AKIYAMA RYOU to function at full power, a challenge must always be present, whether it be a video game, a broken computer, or a digital threat to the known world. AKIYAMA RYOU is a low-maintenance purchase when compared to several products from other corporations, such as Ouran Corporation or Sailor Moon Unlimited- this unit does not require special effects, food, or super dramatic back stories. However, as stated above, attention and challenges must be given to your AKIYAMA RYOU. This unit can be used to make a profit- simply put him to work in a computer repair store or placed on a street corned to smile people into donating money. Unit is also useful in times of crisis and catastrophe, especially when grouped with C Corporation's range of products, available at a competitive group discount price! 

**D ADDITIONAL PURCHASES.**

We recommend the purchase of either a) CYBERDRAMON accessory, b) MAKINO RUKI unit, or c) FANGIRLS accessory, each specially designed for a variety of lifestyles.

The CYBERDRAMON accessory is designed for the low-_low_-maintenance customer. It allows the customer to send AKIYAMA RYOU and CYBERDRAMON out into another dimension for a few months and to bring them out during holidays and photo shoots. However, if the customer attempts to leave AKIYAMA RYOU and CYBERDRAMON inside of a building, or even a room, disaster will occur. Please do not attempt to contain this accessory within your home! CYBERDRAMON accessory requires a lot of space, and will obtain it in any way possible.

MAKINO RUKI is the ideal counterpart to your AKIYAMA RYOU unit. She will not only keep him in line, but will tell him to shut up, keep him happy, and will balance his energy with sensibility. The introduction of a MAKINO RUKI will allow AKIYAMA RYOU to function without regular inflations and check ups. The MAKINO RUKI unit will function well with the AKIYAMA RYOU unit at any level of upgrades- in fact, when these units are in the same vicinity, then they will upgrade each other. Introduce MAKINO RUKI unit at your own risk. Frequent bickering and occasional dramatic fights will occur. Depending on the environment, ROMANCE program may activate.

If you do not want the ROMANCE program to be activated, but would like to keep your MAKINO RUKI unit, please purchase a JENRYA unit to active LOVE TRIANGLE OVERRIDE program (results will vary) and/or an OC unit. However, the AKIYAMA RYOU and MAKINO RUKI units are designed to complement each other and C CORPORATION is not responsible for any bad karma coming your way.

The FANGIRLS accessory is purchasable, but will most likely be attracted by AKIYAMA RYOU's charisma and charm programs and will show up at your front door without charge the next morning. Please do not sell, exploit, enslave or encourage the FANGIRLS accessory: simply call the number at the bottom of AKIYAMA RYOU's packaging kit, and a trained official will remove them from your property. Warning: If FANGIRLS accessory is encouraged or enraged, these seemingly harmless units will self-upgrade and become RABID FANGIRL units. If this occurs, please do not panic and call the local police- they won't be very helpful. Instead, barricade your AKIYAMA RYOU unit in a secure location, such as a hall closet, and call the Ouran Emergency Specialist Number included in unit's packaging unit.

**D. FREQUENTLY ASKED QUESTIONS. **

Q: My RYOU unit is ignoring my OC unit and writing bad poetry and sighing frequently!

A: C CORPORATION is not responsible for any bad karma that you may have or will soon experience. Introduce a RUKI unit as soon as possible so that FRIENDSHIP or ROMANCE programs will be activated. OC units are returnable for a twenty percent refund.

Q: My RUKI and RYOU unit are fighting!

A: Please grow accustomed to this.

Q:RYOU unit has been tinkering with my computer and seems to be absorbed in adventure movies!

A: Your unit needs a break! Purchase or Rent a CYBERDRAMON accessory and allow RYOU to go off on a brief sabbatical. He will return soon.

Q: FANGIRL accessories are frequently ripping up my lawn/destroying my birdbath/scratching at my door. What should I do?

A: After affirming that attacks are coming from FANGIRL accessories rather than RABID FANGIRL units, rent a Bishounen Unit (High Speed Edition) from any major corporation for a few hours and move to a new home. Cover your trail and ask for government protection.

**Enjoy your new life with your AKIYAMA RYOU UNIT! **

**- THE C CORPORATION. **

**

* * *

**

_No, I did not edit. Yes, __I'm pretty much writing fairly crazy stuff with lots of capitals._

_A fairy tale is in the works, and we all know how sane _those _turn out to be. _

_-liahime. _


	22. school

**ryuki100 fluff challenge.  
**_theme 22. _school.

**1.** **Charms. **

"Well," he says to her, casually sending a teapot into the air with a flick of his wand, "it's obvious. I was just born to be a natural."

After her third attempt to levitate her tea set, Ruki grumbles something unintelligible and rude, hoping that he'll understand her not-so-subtle hint. But being Akiyama Ryou, he catches it anyways, and smugly sends his teapot whistling in the air as it spins, boils, and changes from a pale lilac to electric blue and back again.

"Well, really. I have the good looks, the smoldering eyes, the brilliant smile, the charisma- I was _born _for this class." He winks at her. "Look, you're giving into my natural charms already."

Ruki suddenly succeeds in sending the teapot into the air, and the professor only takes 10 points away from Gryffindor after Ruki sends her tea set crashing into Akiyama Ryou's naturally charming head.

**2.** **Herbology.**

"Stop poking my plants. You're driving me crazy." The words fly out of her mouth before she can think them through and guard against any hidden meanings that his brain somehow finds in the most innocent words.

"I'm driving you crazy, huh?" He smirks at her with the smile that he reserves for times when he's feeling particularly clever as he lazes around the third greenhouse. Herbology, he has said to the professor on several occasions, is a total waste of time, and he will just be purchasing all of his mandrake roots and devil's snare at the local magical marketplace, thank you very much.

"Yes," she replies in a voice as sharp as the knife she's using to chop up fertilizer for her potted carnivines, "you are. Do you want a trophy?"

"How about a kiss?" Again, the smirk. She turns away, sighing, and taps the clay pots of her restless vines.

The carnivorous vines swoop down hungrily, pulling his ears toward their gaping mouths as they wrap their leafy coils around his struggling body. Professor Longbottom looks at him and chokes down a laugh and an unkind remark, turning back to delivering a lecture on the various uses of seaweeds to a small group of Ravenclaws.

"Thank you," she says to the vines, pouring fertilizer into their pots. "I put in extra chicken today, just for you."

There are a few perks to Herbology.

**3.** **Divination.**

"I see a butterbeer in your future." He squints into the murky cup of tea, his eyes nearly crossed. "And two hands- oh! A very handsome and charming man is sitting next to you, and you are saying- hold on, I can almost read it- _Akiyama Ryou, you are the most gorgeous being ever to grace this earth-_"

Ruki rolls her eyes as she discretely empties the contents of her cup onto the thick shaggy carpet. "No wonder you're failing this class."

**4.** **Quidditch.**

She _loves _it.

Makino Ruki isn't one for organized sports, but she weighs this with the feeling of flying into the wind faster than she thought she could ever move, and decides quickly that if she's going to have to go through the shouting crowds stuffed into the stands for the next four years, she might as well be off the ground while she's suffering.

"-and last, but _certainly _not least, we have the gorgeous seeker for Gryffindor, Miss Ruki Makino. Which reminds me- if Miss Makino wouldn't mind--"

She grits her teeth, and tries to block out the sound of an all too familiar magically amplified voice from the sidelines, and for a moment, she hears only her breathing and heartbeat, steady and sure, waiting for the world to begin.

"—if she wouldn't mind too much, I'm free tomorrow afternoon, and would she care to join me at—"

It's only the third game that she has ever flown in, but it feels as if she has been doing this for forever; it is as if her feet have always known the damp grass brushing against them, as if her eyes have always scornfully glared at the Hufflepuff girls smirking and whispering about the new third year transfer student. Her toes are nearly itching from being on the ground for so long; all she wants to do is fly and fly and fly into the sky until she feels like she'll never come down again because the ground doesn't really _exist_ anymore, it's just a world of air and brooms, bludgers and snitches.

"—and I would be _delighted_ to buy her a butterbeer or two after this game, so if you're interested, Ruki—"

In the muted background, she can hear the Head Boy berating him as the two argue over the wand about proper use of magical equipment until the impatient referee interrupts them by (finally!) throwing the quaffle into the air.

"get your paws off, you p—and we're off! Ladies and gentlemen, the game has begu-"

There is a tiny golden blur flying into the blue sky.

A whistle screams.

Makino Ruki leaves the earth behind and flies.

**5.** **History of Magic**

"Your hair and eyes, Mr. Potter, " the ghostly professor says to Ryou after a few weeks of classes, "are the wrong color."

"Excuse me?"

"Very curious. I'll really have to make a note of this for my reincarnation theory."

"Your theory?"

"It's a pity," the professor continues, "or perhaps, in my case, a blessing, that your … _ahem,_ friends were not able to join you in this life." He peers over ectoplasmic spectacles. "My sympathies, Mr. Potter."

"Um. Actually, my name isn't-"

"As thick as ever, aren't you, Mr. Potter." The professor sighs. ""But when all is said and done, it is… a pleasure, I suppose, to have you back. And even more so to have Miss Evans- she is Miss Evans still, it seems- back in my class. It seems that she has undergone a more accurate deposition from the past life to this one than you have."

"Professor? I don't think-"

"No," he says, almost fondly, "you don't, you never did in my class. But I suppose you'd like to know, if you haven't heard already, about your boy- very successful now. Several childr-for you, I suppose, grandchildren, attend this fine establishment, and I must really introduce you- splendid material for my theory, it will drive that imbecile Baggs insane-"

The clock interrupts him, striking the time for class to begin, and without another word, Binns swivels around and launches straight into the history of Tirameisus the Tyrannical.

(Later, several months down the road, they cover the history of the Boy that Lived, and Ryou decides that history might just repeat itself.)

(But then again, he thinks to himself, if Binn's theory is correct, he is determined to do better.

James Potter got four hundred fifty two and a half official detentions, learned a handful of restricted spells, and it took him seven years to get Lily Evans to fall in love with him.)

(Ryou thinks that he can do it in two.)

* * *

_In which liahime was studying for her spanish midterm and ended up writing a shabby crossover with Hogwarts. _

_She has no fact checker. This is probably not a big surprise. _

_Who is Lily Evans? a (lazy) beta-friend has asked. _

_Ryou Akiyama is to James Potter (more or less) (ok, less) as Lily Evans is to… _

_Good job! _

_I knew you could figure it out._

-liahime.


	23. wing it!

_In which liahime writes for the best theme ever. The one that requires her to just spit out exactly what she is thinking and then publish it after five minutes._

_Not that she already doesn't do that, cough cough cough._

**

* * *

**

**ryuki 100 fluff challenge.  
**_theme 23. _wing it.

The first mate lets go of her hand, and it seems as if she floats up into the gray sky and up the steps, one, then two, then three, her pale bare feet walking up as if they belonged to an aristocratic duchess of the Houses instead of an outlaw stepping up to the guillotine. In fact, you would almost swear that she has the blue blood that the gossips are whispering about, that she really isn't the dock rat that she makes herself out to be. Perhaps there is a glimmer of truth in all the garbage that is being passed back and forth in the Noble Houses- the notorious pirate, might indeed be a princess, a reverse Cinderella.

The executioner is not impressed. They all end up the same way, and their proud heads are no longer quite as arrogant and graceful when they are rolling on the ground, spilling out the smell of rust and sea salt onto the dirt. He spits at her feet to tell her how much he thinks of trash like _her_. Her small feet move quickly to the left in response, and then are back where they were only a second before, moving lightly up onto the platform. The executioner nearly drops his ornamental sword as his kneecap seems to explode in agony.

(If you were watching her closely instead of shaking with desperation and second thoughts, you would have said that she was smiling.)

Her crew, in their clinking chains, cannot bear to watch, turning their faces away. The Houses' stands are packed, filled with gossiping ladies in tight silks, flirting men in tighter, all eager to watch the destruction of the maritime pirate empire that had spread from the tropics of Sri Pao to the Blazesky bay. This, she thinks to herself wryly as her wrists are jerked roughly forward by an angry executioner, is supposed to be civilization at its finest. Counts leering down at her, noblewomen tittering as they wait for a criminal to be decapitated; oh, how exciting! She fights back the urge to stick out her tongue, keeping her stone eyes fixed on the ground, her face impassive as dark waters. If this was a story, this would be the part where lost lovers threw open the wedding chapel doors, when sons would come running back home with slain dragons. But this is life, and her head is placed roughly onto the stained wooden block underneath the curved blade above.

And then the story comes to you.

The speech begins, as it always does, with a grand list of her crimes against the empire and His Imperial Majesty. She finds the familiar shapes in the wood- the knot that has always looked curiously like a rabbit, the pattern in the grain that reminds her of a fish scale-as she waits for the words to become righteously angry at one point, to become disparaging at the next. It's not as if she's hearing this for the first time, she can mouth the words if she really felt like it. This is the fourth time she's heard the flowery introduction that begins each Execution Speech.

This is, however, the first time that she might hear the end of it.

(You could mouth these words too. In fact, you're the one who's saying them, reading them off the scroll in your hands.)

"- as well as being guilty of setting the fires in the Imperial Warehouses of Racao, this pirate has repeatedly stolen the cargo in the ships departing and arriving at Port Augsburg, spread slanderous rumors about His Imperial Majesty and the Royal Mother, taken and destroyed seventeen and a half ships belonging to the Imperial Augsburg Division Navy, and broken four of the Imperial Tea Sets at His Majesty's Embassy of Racao."

(If you were listening, you would have heard someone mutter under their breath that it was an accident, and that they really were quite ugly tea sets anyways.)

"Is there anything else?" His Imperial Majesty is bored, he has a christening and a village marketplace opening ceremony to go to, and he would like to see to his hounds before he has to go to the next court function. "We are well aware of the pirate whore's crimes, please continue."

You cough, clear your throat, and continue, looking directly into the eyes of first the crew, then the first mate, and then finally, straight down at the girl kneeling on the wooden platform beside you.

"The Imperial Court finds the notorious Pirate Makino guilty of all listed crimes, but the worst of these is this."

The frigid smiles on the face of the notorious Pirate Makino and His Imperial Majesty are identical, both frozen in place despite the boredom that comes with longwinded speeches, aching for you to stop speaking.

"We, the Imperial Court, find the despicable Pirate Makino guilty of refusing to accompany the charming Rogue Akiyama on a midnight stroll along the sultry beaches of Racao after being unable to give any sensible reason known to mankind."

His Imperial Majesty, who wasn't listening, continues to sip his tea and flirt with the Baroness of New Augsburg as the court begins to pay attention, the news traveling like wildfire up the stands. Did he just say _what_? Is this a joke?

The notorious pirate looks up at you and scowls. "You are an idiot."

You cut the rope that binds her wrists, grabbing her hands to check for any damage. "Not implying anything, notorious pirate Ruki, but _you're_ the one who's standing up here."

"You're the one who_ had _to bring along that huge statue."

"It looks _very _nice in my office. I'm using its nose as a letter opener."

"I had to come all the way to my executioning _and_ listen to your boring speech just so you could have an oversized letter opener?"

"Don't worry, you can use it too. Don't be jealous."

"I am _never_ going to go on a raid with you again, I swear."

Her crew is roaring now, eyes gone red with the madness that you're going to need if you're ever going to be able chop your way out of here, swinging their chains at guards as your own crew comes storming through the gates as if this is what you had planned all along, to be holding her hand in the middle of a free-for-all sword fight on the platform of a guillotine.

(You didn't, but it _did _work out very nicely, didn't it?)

You wink at her, and hand her a sword.

"That's what they all say."

* * *

Hooray! The purpose of this was probably meant to just to remind everyone how badly and randomly this author can write. 

All credit goes to Madeline and that one little boy that chopped off chicken heads with his guillotine. I think his name was Pepe or Carlos or whatever? If you can tell me what his name was, I'll write for whatever random scenario you want me to destroy for the next blob of writing that I throw out. And I will attempt to write something that is actually good!

-finals equals zombie state equals liahime.


	24. daughter

_in which liahime apologizes badly for her absence and laziness by creating an OC. **and: repost because of the typo at the end. internet ate my words! sorry!**_

_I will write some pure ryuki in the future. _**  
**

* * *

**ryuki 100 fluff challenge.  
**_theme 24. daughter_**  
**

**one. daughter.**

"I'm telling you, I just _don't like it._"

"Relax," she says, handing him a cup of coffee. "It's not like her father didn't go through the same thing."

Seven year old Rena Akiyama bursts through the door, chewing gum at high speed.

"Kaoru gave me a pack of gum today and asked me to marry him."

"So what did you do?" Ruki continues to sip her coffee as if the world hasn't exploded in their kitchen.

Ryou wonders how exactly his wife is able to be so calm in such a time of disaster and tries to decide if Jeri would be _very_ angry if he kidnapped her one and only son and shipped him off to Timbuktu, far, far away from his daughter. The impertinent Kaoru deserves it, he is sure, but his mother might not see it quite the same way. He weighs Jeri's anger against avenging his daughter, and decides that this time, Jeri wins.

This time.

"I took the gum and told him to get lost." She smiles a heartbreaker's smile, her small pearly teeth flashing with the shiny sparkle of her father's trademark grin.

"That's my girl. Go wash your hands." Ruki smooths her daughter's hair and sets her free before she turns to her husband with a pointed look.

"Look, she's fine, Ryou. This is _my_ daughter, after all. She can handle herself."

"I was one of those boys! I know exactly what they think about and that's-"

"Well," she says, pointedly, "I married one. She'll survive, Ryou."

**two. what they're all after.**

"Stop painting your eyes! You're in the sixth grade!"

"Rumiko gave it to me."

"And call your grandmother by her proper name!"

"She says it makes her feel old!"

"If you put too much makeup on, then you're going to give those punks the wrong idea, and all guys are after one thing-"

"What's that?" She looks up at him with a smile that is far too innocent. "Gum?"

**three. like mother, like daughter.**

It's not that he was staring at your daughter, Kaoru explains to you after you haul him out of your backyard and demand an explanation before he goes to jail. It was just that he couldn't look away.

Your conscience reasons with you, and its voice sounds oddly very much like Jeri's. It's not like your daughter was doing a particularly glamorous and seductive activity. In fact, she was throwing a garbage bag into a dumpster, her hair escaping from a messy ponytail as she grumbles about her disgusting jail-keeper parents. The light is coming from a street lamp; the only music is the serenade of a trio of alley cats. Roses and wine under the full moon, it is not.

And, it adds in fawning tones, your daughter is _very_ beautiful. He probably couldn't help it.

_No,_he replies. _I don't care. _His eyes remain as icy as possible as he tries to maintain his wife's glare.

She had looked at him, Kaoru continues, and raised an eyebrow. "Do I have something on my face?"

No, he shook his head, "Just admiring a goddess."

"It is customary," she had said, slamming the lid of the dumpster, "to give offerings to a deity." And before he could reply with a flirty, blush-inducing comeback, (he is Jeri's son, after all, and is well schooled in the art of Happy Endings,) she smiled over her shoulder and stepped back inside.

"I accept monetary donations only."

Kaoru deflates all over again at your kitchen table, defeated by a girl who has long mastered the defensive art of Comebacks.

(Score: Ryou, two hundred and five, Jeri, one hundred ninety six.)

And only _then_ do you relax your murderous grip on your coffee cup, because after all, you remember, this is _Ruki's _daughter that he's talking about.

* * *

It's really fun to make up OCs. 

It's probably not really fun to read about them.

Very sorry... I have my head stuffed with the Ottomans and lit analysis that I can only write junk stuff like this for now.

-liahime.


	25. dislike

**I have realized that I missed **_**plot**_ a lot.

Credits to whoever owns and to Emerson.

* * *

**ryuki 100 fluff challenge.****  
**_theme 25. dislike._**  
**

Ruki does not like mutiny.

She sees him from the deck of her own ship, all dashing and heroic and stupid, diving into the water to save the stupid (and admittedly, beautiful) daughter of the very man they're running away from, and her heart decides to jump away from her and give a tiny sigh. It pulls her forward, for the tiniest moment, into a half thought out wonder of what would happen if she fell into the water herself, forgot how to swim, and spluttered like an idiot as she began to drown.

_He'd leave me there._ She crushes her heart's moment of mutiny bluntly. _And also, he'd probably laugh._

_In fact, he'd probably be the one who pushed me in.  
_

They are equals. They are partners- maybe even less than that, she corrects herself. They are _pirates_. They don't have the time to spend on romance and frivolous affairs. They love nothing but gold and ocean and the feel of the salt wind chapping their rough, feral faces. He would turn on her as soon as the wind changed. She would do the same. They are _mercenaries,_ not happy sailors in matching white and blue caps and cute little gold epaulettes. This is what they do.

But in the end, she's not a very good pirate.

Ruki doesn't sail away at full speed as she always promises she will when he goes off on his stupid spontaneous adventures. She doesn't laugh and shout _serves you right_ to the man just now surfacing, holding that stupid soaked girl wearing a dress close to nothing in his arms as the Augsburg Navy surrounds him, guns bristling.

No, she simply sighs and turns her ship around as she gets ready to pull him out of jail.

Again.

* * *

Ruki does not like drinking. He knows this. 

He supposes it comes with the whole pirate thing, just like the eye patch and the parrot and the peg leg, just like those stories that kids read. Liquor should be part of the scent of a pirate, mixed with the smell of brine and freedom and the metallic tint of gold. It is part of their blood- nobles bleed the choked, airless blue, peasants bleed dirt, and the pirates bleed seawater and clear rum tinged with the scent of freedom.

But she does not drink.

Rum makes her dizzy (very dizzy) and gives her a headache (a very bad headache), and after she learned how to make wine in the Racao colonies, she came back one day and threw every bottle from his ship and hers into the bay, growling about rotting yeast piss to anyone who dared to vprotest. And when she does, on rare occasion, get drunk, she is a terror and a hurricane fused together, shaken up, and given a tongue like steel knives for good measure.

But here she is, passing a bottle around to the guards around his cell (who knew that the governor wouldn't be grateful?) her painted eyes smiling blankly as she shakes her brittle curls out of her rouged face and glares at him from under her long eyelashes (he notices that these, at least, have stayed the same) and reminds him how angry she is under the canned laughter. She finishes the first bottle in a gulp, and out of her skirts comes another, its cork popping out with a soft _thwomp_ as she passes it to the guards, smiling, smiling.

In a few rounds, the guards are snoring on the floor and Makino Ruki, in full prostitute regalia, is pointedly refusing to look at him, a headache obviously brewing as she turns the key in the lock angrily, nearly snapping it in her unconcealed annoyance.

"If I said your eyelashes were lovely, Ruki—"

"I would probably lock you back in there. Shut up," she says, still not looking at him, "and bring the bottles."

* * *

Ruki does not like breaking people out of jail. Especially when she needs to dress up to do it. 

She feels like glazed china in the heavy face paint, delicate and so easily shattered by even the tiniest breath. Vulnerable, even. _This_, she scowls as her cook happily dabs and curls and sews, _is not what a pirate is meant to look like_.

_No, _the cook shoots back, _this is how a lady looks like. _

Ruki, too weighed down by cosmetics and lace and the heat of a curling iron far too close to her face, is unable to answer. She attempts to raise an eyebrow, only to feel the weight of paint pinning it in place. Only her eyes remain untouched.

So she does her best and glares an iceberg.

_Or at least, a lady that tries too hard,_ the cook amends, puffing a lacy sleeve unapologetically. _You _do_ look lovely, Captain._

The guards outside of the cells agree.

* * *

Ruki does not like losing, even if it is only to herself. 

They sit in the tiny rowboat, bobbing on the waves as they float past the city walls, their lantern the only point of light in a world of dark sea, dark sky.

"Did the guards-" Ryou begins, but falls short, unable to complete his thought and sentence.

"No," she says, not looking at him. "They didn't do anything. Just talk."

"I'm sorry," he says, and that is all. They float in silence for another eternity. There is no excuse, no _it won't happen again, _no _next time_. He has given up lying to her a long time ago.

She turns her head to look at him, her brittle painted mask almost translucent in the moonlight. "Was she that pretty, Ryou?" There is scorn in her voice, layered with annoyance and contempt, and underneath it all, a real question.

He has a choice of honesty or of annoying her even more. She has risked her life and freedom to free him from the tiny jail cell where he would have undoubtedly rotted until decapitated, walked past the guards with drugged bottles and added yet another crime to her long list, one more guillotine stroke to her neck. She drank the rotting yeast piss. She climbed a hill in high heels and a scrap of silk that could barely cover a sparrow, let alone a woman.

So he annoys her.

"Yes," he smirks, "_very _pretty. Especially when wet. You should try it yourself, sometime. Especially in that dress."

She nearly leans over to slap him when she remembers what, exactly, she is wearing, and how low the neck is cut. He continues to smirk, even as she splashes his smug face with the filthy bay water.

"You," she says indignantly, "are a true idiot."

"And you," he answers blithely, "are truly lovely. Moonlight becomes you."

They hear shouting in the distance, high and rushed over the slow rumblings of cannon being loaded and aimed. They row faster, cutting the waves in the tiny boat as _Fire at will!_ carries across the water. Gunpowder is roaring as the water suddenly begins to pop and roll around them, fire glistening on black water and rushing through the sky. It is so beautiful that if they weren't being fired upon, it would almost be romantic.

"Well," he says, glancing at the rows of cannons behind them, "it's your lucky day, Ruki. We get to try out my excellent suggestion."

"Over your dead body," she snaps, rowing faster.

He eyes the attacking wall carefully, judging the distance. "No, they're going to come out and chase us soon. We're going to have to jump for it. The ships aren't that far."

"Great," she grumbles, knowing that he is right before her mind can really accept the fact that she will be swimming to her ship in heavy silk and a rain of cannonballs and fire.

"So," he says, innocently looking away, "you might want to take off your shoes. And other heavy things that'll weigh you down. It's not an easy swim."

He is right, even if she hates him so much that she wishes she left him in the cell to rot and die. The skirt slips into the water as he not-so-innocently forgets to avert his eyes as she stands in slip and stockings, shoes in hand, glaring her fiercest.

(Makino Ruki thought that she had too much pride to let herself be won over by a stupid man prone to even stupider adventures, but in the end, love always wins.)

But the dread pirate Makino does not like losing without putting up a fight, even if it is only against herself and she knows that she's doomed.

So she leans over and slaps him anyways, deciding that forgetting what she was wearing for a few seconds would be completely worth it.

"I'm never doing this again. Remember that," she says as she watches the satisfying red handprint fade slowly. ""You are too much of an idiot to chase down and free at every port." She drops the high heeled shoes into the bottom of the boat and lifts her head to glare at him one last time. "I really hate you, you know that? You do the craziest, most stupid things that a pirate has ever--"

"And what you do," he smiles at her, blowing out the lantern, "speaks so loudly that I cannot hear what you say."

A cannon ball explodes besides them, and she stumbles as she stands up, only to feel his hand steady her, grabbing her before she falls.

Together, they leap into the water.

* * *

I wrote all of this in order to use one quote and to avoid writing an essay for school. 

I have noticed that I write the most for whenever I have the most English papers due.

-liahime.


	26. support group

**ryuki 100 fluff challenge.****  
**_theme 26. support group. _

He is the only other one who really understood what _power_ really felt like and what it meant, and so in the end, he is the only one who understands her loss. He remembers flying, he remembers the feeling of savage adrenaline running under a cold and calculated stare. The rest were in it for survival, for saving the world. It is selfish, but part of him (a lot of him) was in it for the battle itself.

(He has tasted victory for victory's sake, and there was never going back.)

They stare up at the night sometimes and try to see through the stars and into an old world of data and adventure and endless pixel skies. Sometimes Jeri can see a bit of a mane through the constellations, and sometimes Takato swears he can hear someone calling him through that unbearably thin barrier.

Ruki never sees anything but stars.

(_We have grown so old_, she almost whispers between heartbeats, _so old._)

If they were different people, then maybe they would have talked about things that they missed (_leaping slashing ragged breath)_ and fond memories (_sleeping under a pixel sky on a metal back) _and things that would have been different if they didn't have to save the world again and again _(maybe we'd go see fuji, she would have liked that, do you think?) _

But they aren't.

So they just lie on the grass and breathe in the warm summer air, listening to their friends sigh and chatter around them about what once was, what once wasn't. She rolls over on her back, he is buried in the long grass, his face hidden. They nod once in a while, add a chuckle or a small smile.

But in the dark, their silence speaks all that they need to hear.

* * *

oh my. ff has gotten this magical facelift thing. what is this _beta reader _thing they speak of?

so I had to sit down and write something random in this brand new box.

as a result of this, it would be a good idea not to have expected much.


	27. just in case

**ryuki 100 fluff challenge.**  
_theme 27.just in case.  
_

They are strangers, they remember every once in a while, in a land very far away from home, geographically, culturally, and pretty much in everything else. The people of this land wear their dirty shoes all over the place, tramping mud and dirt into the carpets. They cook their fish by drowning and burningthe corpses and slathering them with salt and fruit and cheese, of all things. They have these incredibly picky ideas about _light_ and _dark _and the sun and the moon- as if the moon was something _evil_, Ruki remarks indignantly after a fiery lecture on the history of Vladmir the Voracious.

Most of the time, they forget about this. Ryou quickly joins the mud-tramping crowd with great gusto, and Ruki eats most of her boiled fish. They belong to no country, no town- everyone is a part of the great mass of Hogwarts, their homes are their dorms, their families their Houses. They know to skip the fourteenth step on the way to Charms, they have become fond (to a degree) of the honking daffodils that line the way to Herbology, they throw bad exams (Ryou) and overcooked fish (Ruki) to the giant squid on sunny days. This is, in a way, their home away from home.

(Although it must be said that even the squid does not eat all of the fish.)

She knows that they are only a pinch of floo powder away, and it's not like the world is going to explode into a state of mass chaos and evil the second that they're not there to look over it, but Ruki feels oddly cut off from the rest of humanity in her comfort, as if it is all a trap that she has been lured into. Hogwarts smooths the jagged edges of a personality, puts fears to rest, and she feels as if her senses have been blanketed with a muffler. Something could happen, she believes, while she's away, nestled in the safety and comfort of Hogwarts. Not that she spends her hours thinking about the overall fate of the world or anything- she doesn't care about the planet _that _much- she just wants to know.

(It happened to her father, she reasons solemnly, when Ryou teases her about it. It could happen here. If something ever happened to her mother or to her grandmother-- the look on her face as she says this would make any sane criminal snap their wand in two and surrender immediately.)

So they walk the long climb to the Owlery each week, shivering as the wind whips through bare windows and pierces thick wool coats. Ruki, despite her grumbling, has never forgotten to write. She sends her letters (sometimes cold, sometimes reprimands, but always punctual) without fail. Her owl drops a coughed up ball of mouse and an envelope into her hands as it matches her glare for glare before flying up the tower indignantly.

(She has never really liked these fluffy chickens, but they were more reliable than foxes when it came to matters of delivery.)

Ruki eyes the parchment in her hand before she opens it. Not paranoid. Not scared. Just making sure, just in case. Not that she's worried.

Just in case.

Looking up from his own letter- his dad has caught a gnome in a bedroom, his cousins are coming over, it's been raining a lot lately- Ryou sees her mental sigh of relief. Nothing has happened. The big story of the day is that Rumiko and Seiko have had an argument about whether they should have sent Ruki this new designer pink quill or that practical blue quill, and that Seiko won as always (but Rumiko, he notices, has stuffed her own pack of quills in with the small package sent from Japan.) Ruki's tension floats out of her, as if she was a balloon just saved from popping.

(Because really, when all is said and done, they know that there's a part of them that's still not quite at home here in this strange land oceans away from home.)

She stuffs the letter into her pocket, tosses the stray wisps of hair out of her face, and makes one last face at her owl before turning to walk down the hill, finally at ease. He can almost see it leaving her body, disappearing into the frosty winter air.

(_I wasn't worrying, you know,_ she says when she catches him staring_. Stop looking at me like that._)

(_I know_, he says. _But in case you ever do, you've got me too. Just in case_.)

* * *

Don't really know why I wrote this.

But I was in a Harry Potter mood today.

So there you go.

(_I know no one understood that last update. But that's okay. I'm in an experimenting mood, and that was a _tame_ creation._)

give me a theme, please. or a challenge. my stuff is getting pretty bad. :(


	28. kingsbury

**ryuki 100 fluff challenge.**  
_theme 28. kingsbury._  
**  
**The amount of charm in the tearoom is staggering. Twin smiles are flashing like the cameras of overenthusiastic mothers during the holidays. Be warned, men of Kingsbury. Don't just lock up your daughters and your wives. Flee for the Waste as fast as you can.

"You're married," Ruki says to him as she sips her tea. "I hope you start to remember that soon, because if you don't, I'll forget too."

"But Ruki," he says to her, smirking at the waitress who sets down a plate with a giggle, "if _I _stop, that means that _he _will win." He subtly jerks his head at a blonde man at the table next to theirs. Ruki turns her head to look, and catches a dazzlingly bright smile from the man on her right. It speaks of blue skies and roses and butterflies and dazzling falling stars and-

Immune, she looks past him and catches the rolling eyes of his wife.

"If I know Howell, they'll be a while," the woman says to her, raising her eyebrows at her distracted husband. "Care for a drink?"

Behind them, their husbands are frantically sparkling to a sea of swooning women. Ruki sends one last glare to Ryou and slides out of her seat.

"Let's go."

* * *

Whenever I post short things and/or crossovers, I feel a bit guilty.

So I posted two on the same day. They were both more than a bit OOC, but they were really fun to write. Please have patience with me. It's my spring break. :)

(I'm surprised I still have readers though! Thank you to all my loyal lovely reviewers out there. MUCHO LOVE. I will write cavity-inducing fluff and whatever you want from me next time. just request it!)

If you know what this crossover is with, you win a massive amount of brownie points. With extra frosting.

-liahime.


	29. team

**ryuki100: aftershock.  
**_without shadows, how do you know light? _

**I. dragon. **

You lie.

The last of the dragons that man knew died out a very long time ago. Their bones are still around, reproduced in plastic and clay and put together for bored school children to stare up at, but the fear is gone. They've become tamed and subdued, their wings chopped off and their fire extinguished under a mountain of dry cold facts that some scientists made up a long time ago.

Now the heroes are dying too, pinned up on corkboard like butterflies in harsh, unforgiving light. They're shriveling and tarnishing and becoming plastic bones put up for the world to goggle at with wide open mouths.

(You're used to the electric stars, you can see through the blinding glare, but that's because you are no longer a hero yourself.)

Part of you wants to yell at Takato and Jeri and Jenrya and Ruki- especially Ruki- to stop being heroes, just give up and step out of the light, don't die on me like this, but you know that the moment that they do this, they won't be themselves anymore and you will be alone again.

So you simply smile a bit wider and steal the spotlight a bit more, trying to shade them as much as you can. Because you know what its like to dry up in a pool of blinding glory.

(But oh, how much easier it would be if everyone was a coward like you.)

**II. hare.**

You run.

That's what you do, that's what you have done, that's what you will do in the future. You do it so bravely that no one really notices, but you _run._ You stand up to the enemy and shout just as well as the rest of the team, but you are the only one that is ready to start stepping backward a bit at a time once disaster pokes its head around the door. It is easy to step up and punch a giant in the chest- you can always pretend you are dreaming, after all. But a blur of cameras and blinding lights and black microphones ready to grab your every breath? If you are dreaming, then it's a nightmare that no pinching can get you out of.

Perhaps you should be ashamed of it. Perhaps you are. But, you insist stubbornly, this is _survival._ You never signed up to be a hero, your tour of duty is done.

(You have seen death and did not roar. You turned around, thanked it very politely for its time and left as quickly as you could.)

Even now, when you can see that they need you even more than they did in the shadow of giants, you are edging toward the door.

**III. fox.**

You hide.

Everyone is good at seeing shells, especially ones that are as flashy as yours. It is bad enough that your mother gave you purple eyes- she decided to go all out and pass down the rest of the genes as well. Flame hair and snow skin and limbs that fit together so well that no amount of clothing can really deflect all the stares are what you are made of. You can't deny it anymore. You can't run from it. There is only one other option left.

When you were young, you pushed as far away from your mother as you could, trying to get out of the little halo of light that trailed after her. It seemed to have popped out in between cold cereal breakfasts and giant billboards, growing from her toes and swallowing her whole. You barely kept out of it, staying a half step out of the blazing light of beauty and the celebrity that it brings.

Now, you find that you have grown your own.

(Foxes did not ask to be red. They would have preferred a muddy woodland brown, or maybe a modest sable. The purpose of a fox is to blend in, not to stick out like a supermodel on a subway.)

**IV. lion. **

You failed.

They all don't say that and say that of course we couldn't have done it without you, you did your best, but you know the truth.

You have failed.

You smile and thank them and say that you will try harder next time, pushing it deeper into the shadowy edges of your heart. But even in the dark, secret corners that you have locked up, it still burns you like a lion without its mane, without its roar. You used to think you were strong, waiting on tables in dark rooms and sliding beers down counters without looking back. You stood tall and looked the bad guy in the eye, and even though you couldn't glare like Ruki and your neck started to hurt after a while, you tried to protect your friends. You thought you could keep up, keep everyone going.

But in the end, you failed.

A lion without its mane is nothing but a housecat that people have to rescue when it gets stuck in a tree.

All you could ever really do was hold everyone together, and you fell apart.

**V. courage. **

You are scared and shaking and out of everyone, you are _sure_ that you are the weakest and the one with the furthest to go. You are not as cold and cunning as the fox or as fast and clever as the hare or as strong and graceful as the dragon. You've still got awkward limbs that you're not sure if you'll ever grow into, and your voice cracks, and you can never think of the right thing to say at the right time or anything like that. It isn't enough to be _leader_, let alone someone who can keep up with a band of heroes.

All you can do is stand and hold things together and smile and squeeze hands, telling them it will be all right, we'll get through this, we'll survive. It's not like you believe in fairy tales or anything, but there must be something that stories were based off. Maybe its not a far far away paradise with castles and crowns, but instead somewhere sort of happy and quiet, with the occasional blue sky. No spotlights drying eyes, no tinned smiles stretching scars wide open. Where heroes are just normal kids going to the park to hang out, not save the world.

You hope.

(You've always kept your eyes on the happily ever after, and someday, you're going to get there.)

* * *

Basically, this was once a ryuki. A fluff one. With extra marshmallow topping.

Do not ask how it became this. It is basically every random fault that ran through my head about thirty minutes ago, with many odd OOC bits and imagined faults woven in and out of it. It was a distraction from the SAT practice essays, which is why there are terrible conclusions and things like that.

Also, on a random side note: I used "courage" instead of an animal because the only thing that I could think of was "red dinosaur thing."

I suppose it could be a cowardly dog, but that's just the ice cream and late night tv talking.

I actually am writing a fluff ryuki though! Don't give up on me, please!


	30. tourist attraction

Really, you're just doing this for the sight seeing.

Profit is secondary. You'd rather lose a ship than miss seeing the beaches (and of course, the beauties that come along with those beaches) of Sri Pao. You _know _that she thinks that this is stupid and a waste of money, but really, Ruki_-_ isn't a week or two in the tropics worth one tiny, sort of leaky, and really ugly ship anyways?

No_,_ she replies, neatly adding up the last column in the thick account book, clearly pissed. It isn't.

**ryuki 100 challenge:**_  
theme 30. tourist attraction_

"My intentions," you declare to her first mate as you stand on the sandy docks of Sri Pao, "are purely honorable."

The first mate gives you a Look that he must have picked up from his captain. It doesn't freeze the blood in your veins, but it does send a chill right down your spine. He picks up his knife and casually begins to whittle at the giant log he's holding in his left hand, signaling that this meeting is over.

"Look," you try again, "we've known each other for years! We've raided together! We've sailed all over the world together. It's a beautiful night, and she shouldn't be cooped up in this smelly old ship all day!"

Finally, the first mate speaks. "She's angry with you, Akiyama." He snorts as if depriving a man of the sight of his one and only true love and coworker is funny, sending a ripple of dark tattoos shivering across his face. "More than normal."

"It was just _one_ boat, and honestly, it was a mistake. I thought it was mine. I told her I'd pay her back, didn't I?"

Another snort, this time in disbelief. You are infamous for "forgetting" about old debts, for a reason you really don't understand. You always pay people back. It's just not necessarily in money, which is an overrated, common thing that binds people to the system of oppression and bourgeoisie tyranny.

"I've saved your life more than a few times, you know! I _bought_ that tattoo on your left shoulder for you- that really nice one of the silver dragon. Don't you trust me?"

"No."

You aren't very surprised that this man is the infamously blunt Pirate Makino's first mate.

"You should probably leave now," he says, shifting the log dangerously close to your head.

You cup your hands and shout to the stuffy, dark office she must be holed up in. "Ruki! Come out!"

No response.

You are about to shout again- after all, she has to get annoyed _eventually_- when you feel a light tap on your shoulder, probably from that stubborn first mate. You push the hand away impatiently, only to have your own fingers bent back in a vise-tight grip.

Slowly, you turn around, reaching for the knives in your sleeves. That man might be Ruki's first mate, but there is a limit to how long a man can stand between true love—

"The day when you have honorable intentions, Akiyama, is the day that the world is round."

You turn around, and have never been so glad that the infamous Pirate Makino insists on being overly cautious and blending in with the natives. The tropical island of Sri Pao is not known for long and heavy garments. Sarongs and flowers are in vogue, and even if she looks as if she's ready to murder someone while she wears the local costume, she stands behind you looking like a true child of the tropics.

(A ship is worth the sights of Sri Pao.)

"This won't be Racao, part two, Ruki. Don't worry! Just--"

"It better not be," she says, in a voice so unconcerned that a passing tourist would never have guessed at the threat in her words. "I'm ready for my payment, Ryou. Hand it over."

"Well, you see, Ruki—"

"That ship was worth exactly eight hundred gold crowns, twelve silver doubloons, one ruby, and a cheap beer."

You catch the last words and hold on. "A cheap beer, I can do. Maybe even two."

"A beer for a ship." She exchanges a glance with the first mate as he rolls his eyes as if to say _I told you so._

"A very good Sri Pao _wine_. Cold."

"Tempting," she says, in a voice that indicates that this is about as tempting as picking the sand flies out of a barrel of old salted herrings. "But not good enough." She turns to go.

"It's been a long time since we drank together," you prompt her. "Wine, waves, charming company- what more could you ask for?"

"Eight hundred gold crowns, twelve silver doubloons, and a ruby."

"A Sri Pao wine with _ice_."

"As tempting as a bit of frozen water is, I'm going to have to demand my money."

"You're just scared that you'll get drunk and succumb to my many charms this time."

"I'll drink you under the table, Akiyama," she snorts.

"Probably," you smile, squeezing as much charm into your voice as possible. "Want to find out?"

"No."

But by now, even the first mate, who was probably some strict celibate monk before he became a bloodthirsty pirate, has cracked a small smile and changed sides.

"Captain, I'll finish those reports."

"I'll be fine."

"You deserve a few hours out in the sun, Captain. We can't afford to buy a doctor, not with the reputation we have right now. Remember what the last one said about fresh air?"

"He was a quack. And fresh air is overrated."

"He was the Royal Navy's finest, Captain."

She grimaces. Piracy doesn't come with free health care. "We could steal one."

"Captain, we're going to sail straight through the next month. You need to get on land a bit."

"I should have you marooned," she grumbles, looking over her shoulder to glare at your grin, " for insubordination. And acting like a mother hen."

"Of course," he smiles at you over her shoulder, "but wait until you get back."

"Well," she sighs, "maybe one-"

You grab her hand and never look back.

* * *

I know that my dear beloved reviewers are probably sick and tired of pirates / random aus / OOC / incoherent babbling, but this author is going to a sat school all summer.

Fluff / anything decent is difficult when your brain is being pulled through a strainer. DX

Perhaps you could suggest some lovely scenario / quote / whatever for my not-so-creative brain to work on?

Hopefully yours,

liahime.

(broke 200 reviews! Many many hugs.)


	31. happy ever afters

"All the stories are fictions. What matters is which fiction you believe." -- Valentine, _Children of the Mind._

_Pick your ending.  
_

* * *

**ryuki 100 challenge:**_  
31_. _happy ever afters._

**  
**There is a girl, and there is a boy, and together, they save the world.

Then the clock keeps ticking.

**uno.  
**  
After high school, there are two paths in a yellow wood and their feet move in opposite directions.

He marries a girl he meets in college and has two children and works in an office from nine to five. She swims in a sea of dry data and ends up in a cold, quiet house with a cold, quiet husband behind an endless wall of newspaper and coffee. Every once in a while, the two bump into each other at the supermarket and exchange the half smiles of almost-strangers over broccoli and cans of tuna.

They are not unhappy.

(They laugh and they love and they live, but their smiles are empty around the corners as their eyes stray up to look at the edges of different skies.)

**dos.**

He charms her with a tidal wave of old memories and sweet words and eternal promises, and despite herself, she melts.

They become the couple that smile from the pages of the yearbook, the couple that have their names linked together in one breath, the couple that defines love and happiness. They become _the couple_ until she realizes that she has lost herself in a different kind of shadow and that this time it is too late to turn back.

(On her wedding day, she closes her eyes and her shadow smiles for her.)

**tres. **

There is a love story written somewhere between the stars and their eyes, scribbled into hieroglyphic constellations and Morse code blinks. The moon is bright and kind; tonight the sky belongs to Aphrodite. The wind whispers encouragement in his ear as they stand on her doorstep. The earth obligingly slows to a halt, holding its breath for love.

But then he hesitates, and she is nervous, and then the moment is lost. She smacks the back of his head and he laughs and the earth never stops for them again.

(As he leaves, there is a faint trace of happily ever after in the air that fades like the lingering wisps of perfume in the wind.)

**cuatro.**

There is a comfortable silence between them. It is made up of sighs and the worn edges of cards and late night study sessions and childhood friendships. They cling to each other as they cling to the rest of the group. The warmth between them isn't the passionate blaze of a wildfire, but the comfortable glow of a fireplace, warm and inviting; their love is made more of home than of moonlight and romance. He pulls her hair, calls her pumpkin and wildcat. She laughs in his face, lets him copy her physics notes. They are happy.

(He is the best man at her wedding and smiles without a trace of regret.)

**cinco. **

There is a muddy dog sprinting through the hallway and an even muddier little girl with red hair and blue eyes chasing after it. A drenched man chases after them, shouting about raincoats and pneumonia and come back here right now young lady or else I'll tell on you!

Ruki throws back her head and laughs.

The sky isn't always blue. The earth doesn't grind to a halt for every kiss. There is mud on the carpets and shouting boys who never learned how to grow up and a thousand tiny stories without the glory of saving the world or a passionate moonlit love.

(But in the end, there is no wish for a happily ever after here: what they have is good enough.)

* * *

I really had a lot of fun writing this. Even though something still seems wrong with this ficbit, you get to see the _what if _part of the liahime mind. (insert OOHs, AHHs, and TOURGUIDESPIELs here. XD)

Hopefully this was somewhat interesting?

If not, then you (might) have learned five words in spanish. :D

- ap homework liahime.


	32. carrots

**ryuki 100 challenge:**_  
32_. _carrots._

There are twenty five ceiling tiles, thirty four tile squares, and eighteen desks in the classroom. And one very bored boy.

_Here lies Akiyama Ryou, beloved son and friend, _he scratches out on the worn wooden desk.

"For we pay a price for everything we get or take in this world; and although ambitions are well worth having, they are not to be cheaply won, but exact their dues of work and self-denial and--" A monotone drone buzzes over his head as the English teacher reads to a drowsy class. He listens for a moment, scratching his pencil in time to the beat of the foreign words.

_His victories: too many to list. His defeats: None. _

He doodles an angel flying over his tomb, using a pen to add red hair and a grumpy face expression.

_He died from boredom at age thirteen. Rest in peace._

"Psst, pumpkin!" He reaches forward to tap her on the shoulder. "Look at this."

She ignores him and turns the page.

"Ruki!"

She pointedly bends her head closer to the desk. "Shut up, Akiyama."

He rolls his eyes and reaches out to pull her hair.

"Carrots!"

She turns around slowly, the heavy English literature textbook in her hands. "You know what happens next, don't you?"

He smirks. "Go ahead."

Despite the disturbing smugness in his smile, she raises the book up and lets it fall with a thud on his smirking head.

-

"You deserved it," she says as they head out of the classroom, armed with mops, pails, and the echoes of an angry lecture about the proper use of valuable classroom materials. "Carrots? That's even worse than the other stupid names."

"I thought you liked those! Wildcat is the perfect name for you!"

She rolls her eyes and swats at him with a mop.

"At least I'm not calling you Ru-chan! Or Ruru-chan!"

"I'm not even talking to you anymore."

"Ruki! It was just a suggestion!"

"This is all _your _fault, you know. _I _was just sitting there and reading that stupid Anne story until you pulled my hair."

"Maybe," he smiles, "but don't you know how the two of them turn out in the end?"

"They both die," she answers hopefully. "Anne isn't paying attention and walks off a bridge after she murders Gilbert for being such an ass."

He rolls his eyes. "Read the sequels, pumpkin."

* * *

If you don't get it, you should read Anne of Green Gables. Or at least wikipedia it. :D

I loved that book when I was younger.

Ruki probably hated it though.

**Liahime is cramming ap work, so please forgive her for this quick and nonsensical drabble.**

**p.s**. the kind beta said: _anne and gilbert get married and have many children forever and ever. _


	33. chocolate

**ryuki 100 fluff challenge.**  
_theme 33. chocolate.  
_

_For dolce, because there hasn't been enough sweet fluff lately. Hopefully this counts as a fluff piece? (even though it is short.)  
_

* * *

"Here."

She shoves a box into his face. This is not unusual.

"What is it?" He leans away from the box, trying to discover its contents without going completely cross-eyed.

So far, all he can tell is that this box is not filled with trash, homework, or unread notes. _This_ is unusual.

"Look, if you don't want it-"

"I just wanted to know what it was-don't take it back, pumpkin!"

There is an odd expression on her face. It is a mixture of emotions that are obviously not in their natural habitat- a touch of embarrassment, a sprinkling of confusion, the faint shadow of a blush.

And ah, there it is. Annoyance. He feels safer.

"I know you probably got enough chocolates to last you a lifetime yesterday, but just take it anyways, okay?"

His eyes widen. "You got me chocolate?"

"Yes," she glares. "So?"

"Makino Ruki made me, Akiyama Ryou, chocolates. For Valentines Day." He reaches out to grab the box from her.

"Shut up. It's the 15th today." She pulls the package away and shakes the hair out of her eyes. "If you're going to make such a big deal about it-"

He leans closer. "You know what this means, Ruki?"

"Okay, I'm leaving now."

"_You_." He grabs her hand, cutting off all escape. The corners of his mouth can't stop dancing.

"Shut up."

'_Love_."

"Akiyama Ryou, if you don't-"

He whispers in her ear.

"_Me_."

She glares up at him. "Yeah, so what?"

He takes the box from her and closes the distance.

"Happy Valentines Day, Ruki."

* * *

-an apologetic liahime who is doing this to apologize for the whole heap of experiment pieces that she has thrown at her reviewers.

hopefully this was fluff?

I don't know how to write it anymore. :(


	34. from japan

**Four Letters She Threw Away and the One that She Sent.**

* * *

You asked me for a goodbye note, so here it is. It's not on scented paper or anything stupid like that, but look, if you're going to Paris and leaving me here for a month, then you don't really deserve anything like pressed flowers or sparkly gel pens, ok?

Stop asking for the S.W.A.K. stamp, I don't even know what that is. So shut up.

If you lean over my shoulder and say something stupid, like you are right now, I'm going to tell you that I'm working on my homework and go away, slacker, do your own work for once. And you're going to smile in that stupid distracted way, wrinkling the corners of your eyes like you are right now, and pat my shoulder and tell me to work on that goodbye note as you wander off to play video games or something.

And I will. Once you leave me alone, idiot.

* * *

Akiyama, why in the world did you decide to leave now, of all times, when whatever mess we have is finally starting to fall into place and finally work out without all the awkward silences and clumsy moments, even if it is for some life-changing college interview, you don't have to go a continent away, do you? The moment I'm actually going to miss you is when you decide to go, you pack up your bags and say _guess what, Ruki, I'm going to France, isn't that great_ and other things that ruin everything like that. You're a stupid hero-boy that doesn't think about anything or the people you're leaving behind, aren't you. Just rushing into whatever is out there with a big grin on your face, forgetting to look back at the people waiting behind you.

Go.

See if I care.

* * *

Look.

I've been to Paris with my mom, and I know the type of people that are there and I know exactly what kind of people they are, and more importantly, I know the type of person_ you_ are and--

If you end up flirting with any of those stupid air headed Parisian girls, I'm going to end this.

And then I'm going to end you.

* * *

When you leave, I'm going to miss you.

It's not going to be anything earthshaking or heartbreaking. It won't be the sun blinking out of my life or the air sucked out of my lungs. It'll be more like losing the smell of the ramen shop we pass on the way to school, or the taste of those really bad muffins you keep trying to bake or the sound of birds singing in the park when the sun sets.

It's not like they're amazing or anything.

I'd just miss them a lot.

* * *

Don't do anything stupid until you come home.

Have a good trip, Ryou.

-Ruki.

* * *

I'm horribly busy.

Hello reviewers, if you're still out there. Did you miss me?


	35. falling

I do not really remember anything canon. XD

if this is very irritating, please pretend it is au. (lame author excuse for everything.)

**love to you all.**

* * *

**one. london bridge is.**

No one ever falls up.

Sorry.

**two. the first cut is the deepest. **

He leaves them on a Monday in the way he had left every Monday. Suit on, coffee in hand, another distracted _goodbye_ and one more blown kiss as the tires squealed out of the driveway. She remembers bare feet on the cement and waving as he peeled away from home.

Only when the car disappears does she hear her mother crying.

(She wishes that she had caught the kiss.)

**three. finding someone to catch you.**

She is seven years old and she's heard so much and seen so little that she is determined to find it. He- or they, since one hasn't been quite specified yet- is obliviously coloring a map of Japan with bent crayons, unaware of the meticulous search going on in the small classroom.

She goes about her search carefully, seriously turning over each one of her classmates in her head as they copy numbers from the whiteboard. He is too noisy, he is too dirty, he is mean- she is a Goldilocks without the _just right_. She works her way methodically down the rows of seats, skipping over the boy with goggles (draws too much, she sniffs) and debating over the new boy from China (not quite, she finally decides).

When she comes to the end of the class roster without a single candidate, she decides that she'll just have to do without a replacement.

**four. frostbitten eyes.**

She is ten and she is young and impossibly scary for her age. No one calls her cute to her face twice. Falling once is enough for her.

Instead, she throws herself into numbers and strategies and smooth cards that don't bite back, don't run away. They are just pieces of data, bits and pieces of numbers that she can put into place and smooth into neat columns of victory and defeat. X + Y is always Z.

(A fox whispers at her window one day, and the rest is history.)

They whisper _ice queen _at her back, but now that she has someone who understands, why should she bother with the rest of humanity?

**five. now you see it, now you don't.**

She is eleven and he is twelve, and they stare at the closing sky as if they have lost their only home in the world. He glances over at her for the space of a blink, a heartbeat, an eternity, and reaches over to squeeze her hand.

For the space of a blink, a heartbeat, her heart whispers a quiet _what if_.

_Don't be stupid_, she whispers back, pulling her hand away. _Not again. _

**six. you just don't understand.  
**  
She is sixteen and she is tall and young and impossibly scary and fierce and beautiful. She's lost and lost again, and she's tired of it all.

It's not that she won't talk to guys, because she does. It's just that she won't fall in _love _with them. They don't quite see the point. What's the point of having everything if you won't _use _it? If you were given those things, got all that attention, then you should appreciate them more! What is the point of being the prettiest girl in class if you ignore every single guy, not for the sake of flirtation or coquetry, but just because that's what you felt like doing?

They're calling her the ice queen for a different reason now.

She holds her head high and looks past the hungry eyes.

**seven. it's not flying, it's falling with style.**

She is seventeen and she falls in love. Her heart tumbles head over heels so fast that her head gets a concussion and checks out of her life for a while.

It is a match made in astrology charts, in matchmakers' equations and romance novelists' dreams. This boy with one foot in the shadows, who's tired of cameras and bright lights and just wants to do what he loves in peace and silence. Same childhood pasts, same understandings- they even like the same foods. He understands her because he understands himself. They are exactly right for each other.

She hears Ryou (of all people,_ he _is giving her advice?) telling her to be careful. Ryou, who has gone through a few dozen strings of girls and has ended up in a serious state of storm clouds after each one. Ryou, the boy with a new _one true love_ every week, is telling _her_ to be careful?

She hears, but she is already gone.

**eight. a river in Egypt.**

He has friends and she has friends and the two circles never quite mesh together. She doesn't give herself up- she would never do that, would she? Of course not. She just- she just spends less time on herself now. And he will too, eventually. It's completely logical: she should spend time getting to know her boyfriend's friends too. Give and take, Akiyama. Haven't you been babbling about this for a long time now?

He shakes his head and closes his eyes.

One morning, she wakes up and can't remember the last time she laughed.

**nine. build a bridge, lock a tower. **

She is seventeen and she is tall and young and impossibly hurt and fierce and beautiful. She's lost three times now, and that's good enough for her. She's not crying, because she's done with crying. She's not sad, because she's done with that too.

_She got what she deserved, _they whisper, trying to justify their satisfaction. _After all those years, she finally knows what it's like to be rejected! _

No more falling down, she says, her eyes dark and stone cold. **  
**  
In reply, he doesn't tell her _I told you so,_ but his kindness hurts more than an ocean of salt in her wounds.

**ten. gravity is inevitable.**

Falling in love, she believes, is subject to the laws of gravity.

You take a leap, and if you're lucky, you meet in the middle for a few seconds.

Then you fall.

**eleven. take a note. **

She has decided that falling down should be avoided at all costs, and has changed accordingly. Destiny, however, seemed to have missed her memos.

No matter what she does, he ends up at her side, chattering or laughing or doing some other annoyingly cheerful thing.

_Can't a girl just go through a breakup alone? _she asks the heavens, _just once?_

_Nope,_ it smiles back at her through sky blue eyes and cloud-white teeth. _Sorry. _

Eventually, she just gives up.

**twelve. you can get used to anything.**

He seeps into her life, like light through the window she was sure she patched and painted over so long ago. He slips through the cracks and ends up dragging her off to help him buy birthday presents or do homework while listening to a band he met the other day at the grocery store or to stay up late simply tossing twigs off a bridge as the moon rises higher in the sky. She makes sure that her heels are firmly planted in the ground, but lets her toes rise up into the air every once in a while, tasting the old feeling of weightlessness.

When she wakes up in the morning now, she is smiling.

**thirteen. pause button.**

But then again, she has never really liked change.

Change has always been worn cardboard boxes and footsteps fading away. Change has always been her mother plastered on billboards and microphones shoved into faces and leaving another tiny bit of her self behind in order to keep up with the sweep and the rush of life on the express train. Change is skinned knees and hearts shattered on impact. Change is falling.

So when he says _those words_, she is afraid.

**fourteen. coin toss.**

I love you.

The coin spins in the air.

_-- squealing tires peeling away, forgetting to laugh, empty closing skies--_

_-- firelight dancing, blue sky eyes, you don't have to be alone--_

_-- ice queen, shadows, falling--_

_-- a hand in yours-- _

The coin falls.

**fifteen. heartbeat.**

She leaps.

**sixteen. beyond gravity.**

She realizes that this time she doesn't fall.

(The other word for it is flying.)

* * *

-liahime.

is thinking about a name change, since this isn't really me anymore.

any suggestions?


	36. misinterpretation

**

* * *

**

_For everyone who wanted an obvious kiss._

_As a warning, it is about pirates. Because whenever I can't write, I write pirate-verse.  
_

-liahime who is dumping everything she has on you all at once. XD**  
**

**

* * *

****misinterpretation. **

"Shut up," he groans at the girl perched primly on his desk. "I know it was stupid, but I'm wet and cold and at least we got back in one piece, right? We'll get your ship tomorrow."

She adjusts the sags of his shirt, an angry chorus of _plip_s falling with each shake of her head. "And what am I supposed to do until then, idiot?"

"Sleep." He snaps as he tries to salvage the maps from her vengeful dripping. "That's what normal people do at two in the morning."

"Normal people don't have their entire cargo seized by the Imperial Navy."

"Normal people wait until they've eaten breakfast before they go and declare war on the Imperial Navy."

"_Pirates_ don't wait for the navy to make their beds and eat their breakfast before attacking," she glares. "If we had left _earlier-_"

"Too bad," he grumbles. "Sleep."

"Where am I supposed to sleep then?"

He throws a pointed glance at the bed.

"But there's only one-"

"I know," he says, feeling the edge of a smirk rise up despite her sudden glare.

"You can sleep outside," she says firmly, stepping towards the mattress.

"What," he grins, "you never learned how to share when you were a kid?"

"Here," she says, refusing to look at him, "you can take the pillow. I don't want your lice."

"I'm bruised in places I don't even want to _think_ about because of you, Makino Ruki. I'm sleeping on the bed. You do what you want."

"I lost my ship and my cargo because of you. Sleep on the floor. Or better yet, with your crew."

"Why don't you?" he growls, trying to edge faster towards the bed, "Since its _my _ship here."

For a second, she is awkwardly silent and her subtle shuffle towards the bed stops. Her eyes dart out of the porthole and to the brilliant harbor walls, where a tiny black flag is being lowered for the royal colors.

"Ruki, I'm sorry."

"No, you're right. I should have been more careful."

"Look," he says, suddenly feeling a hundred times worse than he did a few minutes ago, "you take the bed. I'll sleep outside."

"No, I'll take a hammock with the crews-or maybe on the deck-"

He suddenly remembers the men that make up his crew. They're not evil and wicked or anything like that. Just normal men, ordinary pirates.

"Wildcat," he says with sudden urgency, "I _insist._"

"I'm going." she says, her voice chilly and tired as she passes him. "Night, Akiyama. Sorry about the mess."

Her quiet apology shakes him more than any of the gunfire he has gone through all day. He reaches for her arm, pulling her back. "Ruki-"

"Akiyama, let go of me-"

The door bangs open and a stack of blankets walks into the small cabin.

"Sir, we've prepared quarters for you in the—"

A head looks up from the stack of sheets and breathes out a single syllable. It is a deep _oh,_ with as many layers as the human voice can manage to pack into one word.

"Sorry, Captain." He touches his hat and grins. "And you too, Lady Makino."

"It's not like that!" she protests, her face blooming a bright rose red. "Get off me, Akiyama."

"I'll tell the men not to bother you tonight," the pirate blithely continues, unaware of the death glares that the lady is shooting at his head. "Captain's first real girlfriend! I'm honored to be a part of this moment, sir."

Another embarrassed blush and beam of death glares shoots at the oblivious man.

"Have a good night," he winks. "Congratulations, Captain."

There is an awkward silence as the door slams open and the sheets disappear as quickly as they entered. They hear the muffled shouts about "captain's first girl" and congratulatory whistles outside the cabin door.

"I seriously didn't mean-"

"Your first girlfriend?" Underneath the annoyance, he can hear a hint of amusement in her voice.

"It's not like that-"

"Is Captain Akiyama that bad with the ladies?" It would be innocent teasing from anyone else. From Ruki, though, the words have gained barbs dipped in poisonous sarcasm. "The Akiyama Ryou, the famous flirt of the four seas?"

He swears he could think of a witty comeback if his ears weren't quite so red.

The fact that he has pinned her onto the floor doesn't quite help the situation either.

He catches her lifted chin in his hand. "Ruki, please. Shut up."

She glares up at him. "Make me."

He is tired. He is sore and bruised and has more holes than a sieve. His head is buzzing with blood loss and fatigue. And she- she is glaring up at him with big, angry eyes and wet hair and his shirt—and he just doesn't know what to do.

So he follows the drunken, crazy logic of all good pirate men caught in unfortunate situations.

He kisses her.

* * *

I know, it's a terrible ending.

I'm sorry.


	37. look over here

LOOK AT THIS AMAZING SPEED.

Months and months of not updating, and now this?

If only the quality of the writing was not so terrible. XD

This drabble is one I pulled off the computer. It was originally meant for 30kisses and an entire road trip series, but I bogged down (in typical liahime style!) after two or three.

So here it is.

-a very rusty liahime.

* * *

**look over here. **

"Let's go down that road. I'm going to turn left, okay?"

"Nagano is the other way. Stop being stupid and follow the map, Akiyama."

"Look over there! The world's _biggest_ pumpkin is just thirty miles away! Why can't you be more impulsive, Ruki? You're missing all the good things in life. Seize the day and kiss it!"

The weather channel drones they lurch over a bump in the old road. The static-smothered voice seems to creep into her tired, grumpy brain and roots itself into her headache, bouncing back and forth in endless echoes of the weather in Nagoya, in Tokyo, in every forsaken corner of the world except for where the stupid car is.

_That makes sense_, she decides. _We're in the middle of nowhere._

"Only idiots like you go to every stupid tourist trap they see," She unfolds the papers she brought with her. "Look over here, okay?" Her finger traces a thin line on the map. "Your road takes us to a landfill. We have to pick Jenrya up at the airport _today_, Ryou. There isn't enough time to go to every garden vegetable on the side of the road."

"Don't you want to see one of your relatives, pumpkin?"

She glares at him and stares at the map.

Ryou drives past the exit with a last longing glance, sticking with the planned line. "Ruki, are you carsick?"

"I'm not carsick, just Akiyama sick," she snaps, and rolls down her window. Ruki stares out of it, breathing in the cold early morning air streaming in from the countryside, trying to get rid of the headache that always manages to come up when she's on these crazy road trips in the middle of nowhere. The wind blows through her hair, trying to pull it out of the tight hair tie keeping it in place.

"Try looking at the horizon." he says, playing with the radio. "That might help."

"It's just a bunch of rice fields. " she says, determined not to be helped in any way, not when her stomach is scraping her backbone and this stupid metal monstrosity of Akiyama's is bumping over every pebble in the gravel road, shaking her headache to a fever pitch.

"Look over there," he says, moving her hand up to point at the streaked gray sky, "see the clouds? Rain's coming."

"So?" she grumbles and rolls her window down further, leaning her head on the taut curve of the seatbelt until her ear kisses the frame of the car. "It's just some water vapor and a bunch of plants. I don't know why I came in the first place."

But Ruki's eyes remain on the horizon.

* * *


End file.
